I went to the dental spa yesterday to get my fangs cleaned, and was asked if I still wanted that solid gold crown installed. Yes please!

NWB and I have a new game (“bing bong”) where we run around the house in our PJ’s, kick balloons, and head-bang to Top Gun’s “Danger Zone”.

When I went to the Boger Dental Spa yesterday, I let my hygienist Dawn give me a moisturizing paraffin hand wax in exchange for my man card.

Today, in slow traffic, I found myself day-dreaming of Ukrainian babushkas plucking chickens and cackling like ravens. What’s wrong with me?

After reading 21 CFR 820 over coffee, I confirm interstate shipments of monkeypox-laced African rodents is definitely not recommended. FYI