The Silver Foxes told me that between five of them, they’ve been hitched for a grand total of *car alarms raging* *sirens wailing* *tornado warning sirens screaming* *doorbells ringing* *bats screeching* *shuttles launching* 218 years.
BREAKING: A dozen Boulder men gripping Colorado Daily newspapers Wednesday suffer heart attacks, eight reportedly dead.
The Fisherman has been married for 42 years. (Another Boulder man drops dead, hospital staff reports.)
“Women are awesome,” said The Fisherman. “They are soft and they are kind and nice. Why wouldn’t anyone simply honor and adore the right gal? Who wants to spend time with men, for Christ’s sake? Women are much more interesting.”
It’s true. My hair feels like fine-grain sandpaper, my skin tastes like salsa and I have the patience of an octopus (who can withstand pregnancy for 4½ years).
The Fisherman said he lives by these rules: I’m wrong, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time.
Toss in a burrito and we’ll call it a cease fire, buddy. Mission-style. (The burrito, you pervert.)
The Lawyer is a “mouthpiece,” The Fisherman said, yet he didn’t have much to say. He’s been married 24 years, so he keeps his head down and his mouth shut to survive.
Dear The Lawyer, et tu ex parte? I also like to party el solo. Also, I need some lawyering on how to speak lawyer. But, isn’t “ex parte” a proceeding without the parties? So it’s like partying alone? Party.
The Distinguished One (34 years chained down) has a mantra: “working slowly and deliberately towards accomplishing very little.” The leader of the Northern Colorado National Association of Turtles (it’s a private club, no questions) said, “Every once and a while, we have to crawl back into our shell for some ‘me’ time to get reoriented.”
Is that like shrinkage? Or maybe you mean a quick-and-dirty whack job in a dark bathroom? In the esteemed words of Elaine Benes, I don’t know how you guys walk around with those things.
The Rocket Scientist (married for 54 years), said there are plenty of things he can’t discuss (rockets), but he did say, “I am the head of the family. My wife is the neck. She tells me which way to point and go.”
Why can’t you talk about rockets? I want to talk about rockets. Do rocket scientists call rockets’ heads, heads? Do rockets have heads? (Also, it sounds like your wife is the head of the family, buddy.)
The Judge, bless his decrepit heart, has been married for 64 years. (Four more Boulder men just died, hospital staff reports.) He said he was in the service, accustomed to taking orders early on, which helped him keep his wife happy over time.
We have a possible 10-16 at The Judge’s house. Please send an officer for a welfare check. No, not a monetary check, you morons, we think the old dude may be locked up in his basement.
The Bachelor (married six years and twice divorced) said if he takes another leap, he promises to “sharpen his skills with empathy, support and compliments.”
How does your bank account look? What’s your jockstrap size? Asking for a friend.
I think we all see what’s going on here, boys. You can be molded and shaped like Play-Doh when in the presence of vaginas. But when the vulva takes the Volvo for a voyage, you sit around and make penis molds with the Play-Doh and throw them at neighbors.