It was 8 friggin' degrees farenheit in the Colestin this morning, prompting remembrance of some of my favorite cold weather similes. (If the phrase in question employs the preposition "than" rather than "as" or "like", is it still a simile? Is there such a thing as an anti-simile? Does anyone else on the planet other than me care?)
Of course there's the old stand-by "colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra." But my favorite is one that my dear old daddy used to recite: it's colder than a well-digger's ass in the Klondike. One assumes that well-diggers' asses get mighty cold, particularly in the Klondike.
Here's a photo of your favorite music jokers performing at the Craft Fair. If Cletus's ensemble doesn't warn your heart, nothing will.
1 comment:
ohkay...I LOVE that Cletus wears these styles for many different occasions and does so with aplomb.
In less technical jargon he's HOOOOOOOT!
Of course one of my fondest memories is a Halloween long ago when Cletus, G'ma(me) and the rest of the family drove everyone away from where we were perched in the Vinyl Club.
Maybe it was Konnie May saying "Daddie sez I'm the best kisser in the whole family!!!" or the giant wigs Porto and I had pinned in our skirts and we were flashing people...I think people thought we were real. HAY we ARE!!!
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