This is the season for snapping up homes. Even if you already have one, with all the foreclosures and subsequent family break-ups, now’s the time to pick up a second, third or even fourth house. Leave it sit empty while birds build their society inside the chimney. What do you care? BUT YOU DO CARE. YOU DON’T WANT TO BE MADE TO LOOK FOOLISH. To maintain your dignity, interrogate your realtor with the following: Am I buying a House or just a picture of a House? How much Ice Cream could fit in the freezer comfortably? Are the neighbors ugly? Is the house haunted? If so are they friendly ghosts? Would my stuffed animals feel comfortable there? Is the porch detachable? Is it a Boy House or a Girl House? And how do you tell? If I were a duck, would I live there? Please explain the...

Michigan’s Cowboys all live deep under the lake. Sometimes you see them holding their breath, skulking through swamps, eating glass bottles and storm refuse. They are unapproachable and largely made of stone. They were here long before us and will be here long after.
When needed, though, they are ready to defend this stats’s people and mineral resources from marauders and thieves and those giant land turtles that eat rock from Ohio.
As a bonus, they’ll let you sharpen any kitchen or hunting knives on their thighs or backs. They only ask for a single kiss.

Woke up to terrible news. Some miscreant has hacked into my multi-media cell phone and posted my private photo collection to the internet.
Now everyone (everyone who matters, anyway) has seen my 450+ photos of mannequin hands.
I’ll be under the bed the rest of the week.

What kind of man willingly sits through a three hour video of a dehumidifier running in an empty room?

I REFUSE TO BE A STATISTIC!