Today’s chunk of comfort:
“I’d slap you silly but it looks like somebody beat me to it.“
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Learn more about the amazing Dr. Toboggans, godfather of funny psychology.
Another service of the Ominous Comma, the first, middle1, and last name in intelligent humor.
- Use of the middle name does not necessarily constitute parental disciplinary measures, but it is strongly implied. «
{ 25 comments… read them below or add one }
Hey Doc! I think you could slap some extra silliness with that gargantuan hand.
what happened to my 1st comment?
(this one is actually a test to see if it magically appears before my 1st comment…)
(4th attempt)
Yes, that is a seriously Ominous hand.
And the fact that it isn’t obviously connected to Dr. T. makes it even more scary. The thing of nightmares, it is.
Evokes memories (not fond ones, mind you) of the 80’s film The Hand.
Of course, that’s probably part of Dr.T’s plan – the nightmares…
Indeed, the doctor is the stuff of dreams. Unpleasant ones at that.
Harry Toboggans, huh?
Yeah, I think I’ve ridden on one of those before.
That mustache (what a weird word by the way) is scary today.
OMG…I haven’t been able to stop by my blog and when I did you were hanging upside down in the corner! EVERY time you do this I laugh!! So, thank you.
And ANOTHER OMG!!…I open your blog tonight and that picture made me choke on my sweet ice tea that I’m drinking. I snorted it through my nose and that is not a pleasant to watch or experience.
OMG I love the pictures. :)
Is the mustache real? I have to ask.
Tonight I left a post on my blog asking everyone to jet over to your blog because it’s so funny!!!!!!!
I told them that they had to see the pics. :)
Clearly you need some anti-inflammatories to help with the swelling Dr. T. The white ones, not the pink ones!
Is that a pink shower curtain behind the Dr. or is that very tragic wall paper?
What happened to his upper lip?
Children born with FAS do not have much in the way of upper lips.
IT DID!!
Alright.
WHAT HAPPENED TO MY 1ST COMMENT?!
When I attempt to post it again, I am told I have already posted that comment…
ARRRGGGH!
and here’s what didn’t make it into that comment:
the url for the movie The Hand:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082497/
You’re kind of cute when you talk to yourself. I didn’t sabotage the comment thingy, but I would have if I had known if was this much fun.
You’ve ridden a hand?
I don’t think that I ever have. I know that a few times I was pleased to be rid of a hand, usually placed heavily upon my shoulder, but I have never climbed aboard, fastened my seatbelt, and taken one for a ride.
Where did you find yours?
It waxes and wanes with the moon. It even has its own tides and the occasional storm.
Thats why I always have my radio set to Facial-Hair 97.5 so when anyone issues a mustache advisory, I’ll be the first to know.
Ice tea is a gateway beverage. Once you start snorting it, you are just about guaranteed to move on the heaver stuff like diet coke, Starbucks Frappuccino, and jello.
The nose is separated into two chambers by the septum. If you snort jello it will dissolve the septum and you will end up with one big nostril.
Hey Lynn!
I really didn’t think you’d want the sordid details but fine. It was at a Badfinger concert during their rousing ‘Day After Day’ finale and I found myself riding upon a sea of enthusiastic hands through the crowd….
And now you made me break my promise to never, ever utter the word Badfinger, like ever again. I hope you’re satisfied with yourself!!!! *SOB*
But then you can snort whole jello shots!
I suppose that would simplify basic nasal hygiene.
It could also snag you the Boris Karloff Award for Disturbing Facial Events.
I hear it’s very competitive.
That’s what I like about you Jami, always pulling out the positive…
“Wilbur, just cause you’re handicapped doesn’t mean you have to sit around on Jackson Street all day being pitiful. You could at least volunteer for the Special Olympics or something.”
“I earned this nostril,” Wilbur told me, “and I’m gonna use it.”
Besides, two years ago we tried to put Little Wilbur in the Special Olympics, but they said he was the only single-nostriled person they’d ever had and they didn’t have anybody to compete against him.
“That just shows you,” he said, “the prejudice of the full-nosed population at large.”
I told Wilbur it would be different if his nostril got shot off in Vietnam or something, but he was a natural one-nostril man and so . . .
“There are plenty of cocaine-head Hollywood producers with nostrils worse than mine!” he interrupted. “They could have put them in the Special Olympics.”
“Wilbur, cocaine-head Hollywood producers can’t use a table fork, much less a discus.”
Wilbur snorted.
“Please don’t do that again,” I told him. “That’s the one thing you can do that grosses me out.”