My hairdresser called me “Chunky” today, as in, “Hey Chunky, what’s up?” I stabbed him with his own scissors and hid him under the picnic blanket I keep in the hatch of my Matrix.
My hairdresser called me “Chunky” today, as in, “Hey Chunky, what’s up?” I stabbed him with his own scissors and hid him under the picnic blanket I keep in the hatch of my Matrix.
You have a Matrix? I’m jealous… 🙂
I prefer the greeting, ‘Yo, Mama.’
Yo, Mama.
The word “chunky” is just never good, no matter what the context. I think “chubby” is preferable. My MIL called my son “Chunkers” and nearly ended up being thrown out onto the streets of Brooklyn to fend for her little suburban self.
Hah, it would serve him right.
Bloomin’ cheek.
BTW, I’ve now linked to you on my blog – hope it’s OK!