That was a heckuva weird writeup. To save anyone else the trouble: There is no Nun Better, nor any Ian T. Gould. The “payoff”, such as it is, is an anemic reference to Austin Powers, which was written by Mike Meyers.
Plus, a clumsy typo at the end to really put a stomp on the ol’ clomper.
What can you say, when a man asks you to dance with him? I most certainly will not dance with you, I’ll see you in hell first. Why, thank you, I’d like to awfully, but I’m having labor pains. Oh, yes, do let’s dance together – it’s so nice to meet a man who isn’t a scaredy-cat about catching my beri-beri. No. There was nothing for me to do, but say I’d adore to.
I’m so glad I brought it to his attention that this is a waltz they’re playing. Heaven knows what might have happened, if he had thought it was something fast; we’d have blown the sides right out of the building, Why does he always want to be somewhere that he isn’t? Why can’t we stay in one place just long enough to get acclimated? It’s this constant rush, rush, rush, that’s the curse of American life. That’s the reason that we’re all of us so – Ow! For God’s sake, don’t kick, you idiot; this is only second down. Oh, my shin. My poor, poor shin, that I’ve had ever since I was a little girl!
You see, that little step of yours – well, it’s perfectly lovely, but it’s just a tiny bit tricky to follow at first. Oh, did you work it up yourself? You really did? Well, aren’t you amazing! Oh, now I think I’ve got it. Oh, I think it’s lovely. I was watching you do it when you were dancing before. It’s awfully effective when you look at it.
It’s awfully effective when you look at it. I bet I’m awfully effective when you look at me. My hair is hanging along my cheeks, my skirt is swaddling about me, I can feel the cold damp of my brow. I must look like something out of the “Fall of the House of Usher.” This sort of thing takes a fearful toll of a woman my age. And he worked up his little step himself, he with his degenerate cunning. And it was just a tiny bit tricky at first, but now I think I’ve got it. Two stumbles, slip, and a twentyyard dash; yes. I’ve got it. I’ve got several other things, too, including a split shin and a bitter heart. I hate this creature I’m chained to. I hated him the moment I saw his leering, bestial face. And here I’ve been locked in his noxious embrace for the thirty-five years this waltz has lasted. Is that orchestra never going to stop playing? Or must this obscene travesty of a dance go on until hell burns out?
@UncleVinny maybe no sitcom but a group of retired religious sisters in Upstate New York run a boutique chocolate shop under that name. Having been educated by that order i can tell you thats about as good as their sense of humor gets.
@DHCicero It cannot. They are using the wrong units of measurement.
These were recently redesigned to use more recycled plastics to combat pollution in the ocean. They really needed to get some of that plastic waste processed, so the bags each actually weigh in at 21.8 tons.
Oh yeah, those are metric tons.
Do your part to keep the oceans free of plastic. Order today!
@stolicat there you go doing actual math and getting the right answers again!
If I had to guess, the conversion was done from grams at the manufacturer by someone who legitimately doesn’t know what a pound is. We might as well weigh things in whoozlies; it would make as much sense.