But we all know that, don't we, kittens? Leonard has pointed out my inexcusable eff up in the comments below and...well...of course he's right and of course I screwed up this entire post because I was too lazy to check my email for the proper link to the joke before throwing this together. See what happens when I don't write anything for so long that I feel guilty as hell and then hurry to produce something without really attending to details...or even paying attention? It all goes to shit.
If it interests you, this is how I typically tell jokes, too. Jump in...wander around forgetting the story line AND the punch line...until everyone is laughing AT me and not WITH me.
So BEHOLD! Here is the REAL instrument of
It's a good deal more tidy and looks much safer for rummaging around in tight quarters.
If I had taken the time to get it right, I would also have been able to cut and paste the product description, which is divine.
- 8" long silver-plated ball-scratcher
- Reaches deep into your trousers for itch 'n' scratch relief!
- In a stylish presentation box.
- Gentleman's Ball Scratcher for the busy male executive
- Handheld chrome-effect ball scratcher presented in a deluxe metal case
- Ideal for those hard-to-reach places
- In the shape of a delicate female hand
- 9-inch handle for extra reach
What a remard!
Happy New Year. At least we can all quit worrying that I'm going to develop into anything serious, noteworthy or even remotely successful in 2015. I'm the same remard as I've always been. Reassuring...isn't it?
I can still use "Behold!" because it's only a week past Christmas. My blog. My rules.
I can't even bring myself to name this. You figure it out.
There are no reviews on this handy little gadget. Go figure. But after watching enough baseball games with Farm Boy to guarantee Alzheimer's before 60, I am shocked to realize that men need a specialized tool. I thought their hand was God's invention.