I've been on safari before, you know.
Which is not a euphemism for sex (this time).
I went with a group of Beavers during my drug experimentation years.
The children's group.
Not the animal.
I planned to live out the remainder of my life on the Savannah.
Because it's breezy and I find 'Savannah' a pleasant word to say.
I would have made it, too.
But one of the tour guides shot me in the ass with a tranquilizer dart.
I thought several layers of plaid would blend in with the tall grass...
I had a great set at the ol' comedy bordello last night.
Some woman got a phone call during my set.
I asked her if I could answer it.
And she let me.
I was so excited when it happened.
Because I was foolish enough to believe no one had thought of this before.
As I raced towards her table I thought:
I am Steve Martin.
But I am not Steve Martin.
And it has been done before.
In fact, Bill referred to it as 'classic'.
Which suggests it has been done a lot.
But it was still funny.
Oh, you don't think it sounds that funny?
Well excuuuuuse ME!
I thought about doing Steve Martin for a recent 'tribute' night at The Levee.
But I couldn't afford the balloons.
3 comments:
nor can you play the banjo...
or even pretend to tune it.
were you in beavers? (which, upon closer inspection, should always be capitalized) I wanted to be in beavers instead of brownies (typical), but my mom said no daughter of hers would be allowed to join an organization with that name, so i had to wait it out ‘til cub scouts.
Post a Comment