HAPPY AS A CLAM

...and I'd think a barrel of monkeys would be pretty gloomy and messy, not much fun for anyone involved...

I disagree Boss. Let the silliness begin!

As mad as a hen.

Has the US government underwritten a 3 million dollar study?. How do hens communicate anger?So many questions....

Good points all . . . however, i do have anecdotal evidence that few things in life are more enraged than a wet hen . . .

Indeed, and who would you get to transport said barrell?

Who would place such an idiotic order?


Exotic pets are Us ! ! ! May i take your order?

Uhm, yeah . . . i'm looking for a barrel of monkeys, right away . . . how do you ship?

Well, ground is inexpensive, but we don't guarantee the conditions of the simians upon delivery . . .

Set, your last remark was funkier than a mosquitos tweeter.

I defer to your superior entomological knowledge . . .

If I had a life, I might come to know what 'larger than life' means.

I'm a champion at spitting nails.

Was I having a dog day afternoon when I wanted to crawl under my desk and go to sleep this afternoon?

I'm pretty sure that's what my dogs were doing this afternoon.

And just what do you suppose might make a clam unhappy. I'll sit here, patient as an oyster, waiting for someone to explain why that doesn't prove their happiness.

You'll sit there like a rat trapped in a maze is what you'll do.

Okay, panzade, avoid the logic any way you can.

You've got my M.O. down pal.

I would think clams quite content, unless preyed upon, or finding themselves in arid or poisoned water.

Roger! "Normal"Clams...oysters too... are considered to live life undisturbed...just outside the surf line.
Course we all know about those crazy-assed New Mexico clams and oysters...don't we?
Say Goodnight Rog.

Miss Wabbit, could you explain what "arid water" might be?

Arid water, obviously, is what is covering the plains of Australia.

But seriously, I knew an unhappy clam once. He and I would meet over drinks and he always went on about how he had a chance to be an oyster but he blew the interview. It affected him deeply. He used to cram bits of shell up under his innards and wait to see if they would turn into pearls, none did and the alcohol he used to ally the pain of it all finally got to him. I found him one night, surrounded by some friends of his, next to a pool of Cajun Right Spiced Tabasco and six shots of frozen Stoli's.

I carry the memory of that night with me now.

What a horrible, chilling experience for you, Joe . . . too bad he didn't get steamed over the entire affair, i'd better have been able to stomach him . . .

It's degenerated to clam quips.