We don't write papers, we build scrapbooks
There is a time each year when the weather goes from magical to miserable … they call it January.
It’s so damn cold outside, I just farted snowflakes.
If complaining about the cold weather was an Olympic Sport, my wife would be the gold medalist.
Well, … on the bright side … there are no mosquitoes.
I know I’m snowed in, but it’s nothing a little salt can’t handle … especially around the rim of my margarita glass.
OK Winter, you made your point … I’m a wussy.
They’re forecasting a wintry mix for our area of the Midwest. My idea of a wintry mix is two ounces of bourbon with a gin chaser. Warms...
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