Preserved for Posterity!

I promised to post our Mad-Lib stories from last Sat but before that, I discovered a great insight last Friday which I absolutely must share. Ready? Here it goes..
Why do we call lame jokes 'lame'? Apparently it's a localized expression in Malaysia. Anyway, the answer is because they don't stand up to scrutiny. Brilliant eh? No? Bah.
Anyway, here are the stories. I must say (somewhat grudgingly) that these are some of the best we've had so far. Yes, I'm sporting enough to put in all the names as they appeared originally.


MY DREAM GIRL

The girl of my dreams has colourful blonde hair scented like pianos. Her eyes are like two huge pools of fish-tank water. And her lips remind me of murky dental floss. Her skin is as smooth and lovely as green puppies, and she has a figure like Athalia. When she enters a room, people always stare at her and say, “What! What a red woman!” Her sense of humour is always pimply, and people marvel at her horrendous vocabulary. In my dreams I see her wearing an evil dress and a diamond balloon in her hair. I would gladly give up all my dictionaries for one evening with this ham sap female. Her name is Yan Ping.


A (SECRET) LETTER FROM AN ADMIRER

Dear Miss Athalia Kim Lee,
You may not recall my nose, but I met you at the smelly cocktail party given by our gigantic friend, Joseph. We had a fluffy talk about nice balls, and I was impressed by your hairy conversation and your grasp of the monstrous situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your repulsive eyes, your sharp little chin, and your curly teeth. If you’ll pardon me for seeming powerful, I was fascinated by your sexy walk and by your hopeless figure. I hope I made a sleepy impression, and that we can get together for a nice funeral next week.
Happily yours,
Elizabeth

Note: The last name was supposed to be a guy's name but I guess the person doing it overlooked that.


ARMY INFORMATION

If you plan on joining the army, here are some sexy hints that will help you become an irresistible soldier. The army is made up of officers, non-coms, and fat pigs. You can recognize an officer by the earrings on his shoulders and the long-johns on his cap. When you address an officer, always say “Tree” and salute mightily. If you get a naked hair-cut, keep your babies shined, and see that your toilet bowl is clean at all times, you will be a credit to the slogan, “The Army builds diapers.” And at roll call, when the smelly sergeant calls your name, shout “Ha?” loud and clear. Also, become familiar with basic weapons such as the thirty-calibre rattlesnake and the automatic worm. Follow this advice and in no time you’ll win the Sly Conduct t-shirt.


MY DREAM MAN

My “Dream Man” should, first of all, be very huge and rubbery. He should have a physique like George Bush, a profile like David Beckham and the intelligence of a hamster. He must be polite and always remember to light my crab, to tip his moron, and to take my armpits when crossing the street. He should move hurriedly, should have a transparent voice and should always dress Godly. I would also like him to be a sweaty dancer, and when we’re alone, he should whisper salty nothings in my luscious lips and hold my humongous legs. I know a superior man like this is hard to find. In fact, the only one I can think of is Li Jin.