The Language of Lure

I thought I’d keep a streak going when it pertains to visiting this blog.  Raising the ante to this deal, I thought that I would not only drop in more frequently, but also come bearing gifts—a lil’ something called a post.  How does it feel, Funny Bone Laugh Lines, to chow down on crow meat? If I do recall, you were the one imitating LeBron James as you counted the number of weeks I would be considered a no show.  “Not two…Not three…Not four…Not five…Not six…Not seven…”  No worries.  I once said that the Statue of Liberty was never going to wear pajama pants with the label “Made in China” on them, but she decided to class it up a bit and put something imported on those coppertone hips.  With that being said, it’s nice to see that this blog set an extra place at the table for me along with light compliments of the candle and a well-balanced meal of “See I told you so.”  Do I smell flirtation served on a hot plate?

  Pick-up lines are more identifiable in social situations than a “Seinfeld moment.” As a matter of fact, in the world of talk where Oral B is the “Norm” of Cheers, pick-up lines are Hallmark’s form of amateur night. These one-liners are the voice’s student-driver marked vehicles as they auto-parallel park in dysfunctional manner into a woman’s ear.  Written in the owner’s manual of lines to which assembly of wit is required, it is recommended that these phrases be used once and then destroyed—not to be confused with Miami Heat’s Big Three.  In fact, if found out that these wooing words from the Shakespearian short-bus tour had been verbally copied and pasted, the relationship would destined to be shorter than a pair of Daisy Dukes.   

If verbage could prostitute themselves, these words—property of the playah commonly referred to as the Y2K compliant Romeo—would be the hos pimped-out on the street corner better known as the bar scene.  With the sincerity of Mother Nature’s love taps during her “time of the month” and legit as the leather feel on the seats of a classic base model Ford Taurus, pick-up lines play on the heart strings like Jimi Hendrix to an acoustic guitar.  Pick-up lines—one-liners in which words themselves puke a little in their mouths due to them being lamer than a Christopher Reeves replica bobble-head doll and original as a Hollywood remake from Tristar Pictures.  The Spike Lee of the English language (a professional evil twin of “Gotcha Journalism”) as they heckle during the orientation of on-site dating, and causes the potential for “Bow Chicka Wow Wow” to fail like the glitch-filled computers at United Airlines and become clipped out like a coupon.

Basically, if pick-up lines are attempted, prepare to have the sexcapade cruise out in a hearse because these words will strikeout (worse than Lady Gaga’s attempts to be normal) during the conversation.  Also, plan on having “A Date” along with “First Base” viewed open casket and the smooth operatah act as pallbearer once these lines strut their stuff like an out-of-work-porn-starred-cupid with a dim-witted arrow.