You Know The Date's Over When... (Part 2)

She says, “I’m a huge Patriots fan. I’ve worn this helmet so long my skin grew around it. See?”
She makes dumb blonde jokes about your yellow Labrador Retriever.
She eats like a T. Rex. Sure, it’s impressive the way she brings down her prey, but those teensy arms are creepy.
She mentions that for five years she’s been living in a wild mushroom—but it’s not poisonous.
She’s so cheap she reuses band-aids.
Robust neck muscles prevent her from nodding ‘yes’ or ‘no.’
She gazes deep into your baby blues and tells you they’re the color of crab blood.
During dessert she explains how chocolate causes more constipation than romance.
She’s so tall you almost didn’t notice the ogre eye.
She snuck out while you were reading the menu.
She’s overbearing—especially while clutching that salmon between her jaws.
After dinner she insists on tipping... a cow.
She’s really bossy. But insists it’s because she’s your boss.
She wants a strong man—someone to shoulder the tasseled sedan chair and carry her about the countryside.
She’s in a pickle. A pickle costume.

For the backstory on this humor thing, see my previous post, I Can Learn To Be Funny?

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