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Torture << home >> math problems 3
TAGS: innuendo, nectarines
I used to say that I wanted to move to Arkansas just for the eggs, but that’s not true; I want to move to Arkansas for the eggs, the nectarines and the raspberries, all of which were unlike any I had ever eaten anywhere else, and none of which is currently in my fridge *right now*.
May 1, 2008 at 7:31 AM ::
The California nectarines are never ripe! I miss the Colorado peaches all summer long.
Jo on 05/01/08 at 08:16 AM ::
Store-bought nectarines here in CA are shipped green and they never taste right. Farmer’s market nectarines are ripe but rock-hard. In a few days they turn perfect but only for about 45 minutes!
pam on 05/01/08 at 12:15 PM ::
So in other words, if I luck upon a nectarine tree in someone’s yard at the height of summer, I should be prepared to steal as many as I can carry, and then run like hell. ;)
bakerina on 05/01/08 at 12:20 PM ::
Gosh, Pam, when you said rock-hard and perfect for only 45 minutes, I thought for a second that you were about to begin the story of my abs.
Keith on 05/01/08 at 12:24 PM ::
And here I’d worked so hard to stay in an innuendo-free zone.
pam on 05/01/08 at 12:27 PM ::
@Bake: I once lived on the razor-edge border between suburbs and peach orchards, and for about two weeks of the year I and my neighbors would take refreshing evening strolls through the countryside ... carrying plastic bags.
pam on 05/01/08 at 12:30 PM ::
I have much to learn from you, sensei.
Regarding the innuendo-free zone: Ahhh, you might as well just give up. I know I have, and as a result, get much more done in a day. ;)
bakerina on 05/01/08 at 12:32 PM ::
Unlike nectarines, innuendoes were always ripe for picking.
Keith on 05/01/08 at 12:34 PM ::
“Rock hard and perfect for 45 minutes.”
That’s what *she* said.
'mouse on 05/01/08 at 01:26 PM ::
heh heh
Keith on 05/01/08 at 02:43 PM ::