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RMOG # 10 - Mr. Testosterrific Love-My-Muscle-Car Speeding Highway Hot-Rodder

by Rich "The Troubadour" Limacher (by permission)

RMOG # 10 {this was originally Number 15}

Bud Light presents...

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Testosterrific Love-My-Muscle-Car Speeding Highway Hot-rodder.

{Mis-ter making-up-for-your-other-seeeeeereeeee-yus shortcomings guy!!!}

Never mind that your only other competition along these rural roads are tractors and hay wagons and bicyclists and joggers. YOU, sir, are about to show THEM who's boss. Or, maybe, whose ancient Boss 302 Mustang has been the best preserved in your father's garage all these years because you, sir, didn't have a job and couldn't afford the gas.

{It uuuuuuused ta be thurdy cents a galllll-lon!}

Here comes some dufus in a pair of Adidas and you're thinking: "Wow. A thousand points if I scare this chump sucker right out of his shoes!" But of course you also know it's only ten points if you kill him.

{Dohnnnn't forget yur arrest, court date, and jaaaaaaail time...}

Who, really, are you impressing? The cattle? The corn? Sheep herds, barking dogs, and wolf packs? Maybe you imagine a girlfriend curled up on the bucket seat beside you, smiling lasciviously and fondling your Hurst four-on-the-floor with those long metallic-candyapple-red painted fingernails slithering up and down the stick, while you gawk saucer-eyed with drool sliding down your chin...

{Whaaaaaaat th' hell are we desssscribing here?}

WATCH IT!!! Hey! Focus your eyeballs back on the road, Mortimer Snerd; you almost hit that dude in the green day-glo T-shirt, walking alongside the shoulder with that little American flag pinned to his pack!

{WHOA! Offffffff-i-cer, I swear I never even sawwwwww the guy!!!}

So crack open an ice-cold can of Bud Light, O Alfred E. Newman, because YOU are the very spitting/salivating image of Mad Magazine's inadvertent best propaganda for staying in school. And oh, by the way, please DON'T toss your empty into the ditch.

{Mis-ter Testos-terrrrrific Love-My-Muscle-Car Speeeeed-ing High-way Hot-roddddder!}

Bud Light beer: we don't care where it's made, we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
And wouldn't it shock and surprise you if way more than half those speeding rednecks were women, with cell phones plastered to their ear? It certainly did spook me!
______________________________________________________________________

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