Freshly Riffed 37: Third Location And A Second-String Team And One Awful Plan

16 Jun

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series with an allergic reaction to good ideas!

(And a fetish for bad ones.)

Oh yeah, I love the way you’re about to be extra-crispy.

According to the disfigured gypsy child who rings the church bell, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, does that make me the “Frollo” in this metaphor? Awesome. 

Each title will be linked to the original author, and remember; Watch out for snakes. That has nothing to do with the title linking, but I thought you should know.


Home Is Where Her Ashes Is: Ah yes, one in the long line of “Old Sayings Modified To Be Really Fucking Depressing”. Also on that list is “Love Means Never Having To Say ‘Duck'” and “Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right, But They Do Make An Abortion”.

… Of Your Long, Lost …: … sentence structure really isn’t your strong suit, is it…

Art+Fashion+Religion: Presumably, it equals a sculpture of the Pope in a dress made out of duct tape.

What do you mean, “I can’t find a picture of that”?! BLASPHEMY!

4 Reasons Why, Actually, You Cannot Touch My Hair: Looks like Medusa has finally taken up writing!

(Or my sister, actually.)

Ladies Who Lunch: Ladies who lunch launch lustful llamas who love lipstick at Larry Luther!

You Know You Are An Ultra Runner When…: … Your title randomly trails off for no discernible reason.

(Seriously, that’s twice now. Have we declared some kind of war on periods when I wasn’t looking?)

(No, not that kind of periods, ladies.)

(Well, I guess we can declare war on that too.)

I will declare war on literally anything for any reason.

Nostalgia In The Form Of Postcards: Aw, people still use postcards? That’s so cute.

Boys Will Be Boys?: Well, generally speaking, boys kind of have to be boys. It’s in our contract. And anyways, signing the license orders for a new vagina is hella complicated.

In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream “Wheeeeee!”: “Chestbursters are fun!”

Father’s Day And Grief: Oh, trust me, I know exactly how you feel.

(Jesus, talk about a downer ending! DICKJOKEDICKJOKEDICKJOKEDICKJOKEDICKJOKEDICKJOKE. There you go, does that help?)

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