Monday, August 9, 2010
I love my Chinese Balls. Jingle, Jingle
The wifey and I were dodging around some local garage sales last weekend and I came across a sweet pair of used Chinese balls, they were even presented in a satin filled box with a wee lock, so when you are finished playing with your balls you can put them away safely in the box.
Later that day after I had bartered and negotioted for the balls, I sat in my Lazy-boy with balls in hand jingle, jingle, jingle. I watched as the family darted around me as if I was plagued with some weird disease, but I sat silently and passed judgement on all of them with my internal Bond villain voice.
Wife - You will make me a sandwich and fetch me a beer, jingle jingle.
Sons - You will clean out the garage and wash my car, jingle jingle.
Dog - You will obey my every command, bring me my flip flops, jingle, jingle (It's too hot here for slippers.)
Something happened to my balls, I can't find them. I am thinking sabotage in the sausage house.
I miss my shiny balls......