A sampling of egg gregarious slips
Now and then I overhear a delightfully mangled word or phrase, the sort of honest slip that happens to us all. When I hear one, I discreetly jot it down. Unless, of course, it’s uttered by a friend with whom I have a give-each-other-crap relationship, in which case there’s nothing discreet about it. Fair being fair, it goes both ways.
All overheard first-hand. Enjoy.
They were lightning years ahead There’s a stint in his artery I get the jest of what he said He doesn’t understand the basic tenants of logic Our government has been dreadlocked for years You don’t take a gun to a butter knife fight That’s food for fodder I think she’s losing her baskets It’s a mote point It’s a mute point That remains to be foreseen We need to take care of that right out of the bat We’ve been beating that with a dead horse That’s a egg gregarious sin We’ve made it innoculous Let’s not get signtracked here People were conjugating in the kitchen I’m just trying to cut her a bone They were lost in the shovel He takes me for granite Don’t give him a finger to blame We’re jumping through miracles here Let’s be sure our ducks are covered Let me preference that remark I hope no one minds if I tell an ethical joke | That’s a big load of crock I don’t know what to contribute his attitude to Let’s get together and shoot the fat Dried in the wool Under the 8 ball When does your insurance collapse? Other end of the specter Acme blemishes Let’s not bite our nose to spite our face He has the right aurora about him I’m really up a pickle Let me misspell that notion right now We don’t want people reading our dirty underwear I’d run away from that with a 10 foot pole It’s like peeing in a warm wind We need to be sure our dots and i’s are crossed I’ll rub my nose on that That’s kind of a rub on their nose That is the anchor that holds your planes in air We don’t want a battle we can’t bite off Canada has providences, not states That’s older than hen’s teeth It’s selling faster than candy on a baby’s butt Watch out, she’ll rape you over the coals Children are impressionistic |