I heard a rumor that Coca-Cola can be used to get rid of rust, and not too many people are keen on that from what I can gather. They are suddenly worried about what Coke can do to your insides if it can remove rust. What’ya think it’s gonna do? It’s gonna remove the rust from my insides, and I think that’s a good thing. No one would ever want rust inside them, right? Stop panicking and drink your rust retardant.
Oh, you can use this thing with asbestos; just don’t sniff your ironed clothes when you’re done. Although, that shouldn’t be too difficult. Who sniffs ironed clothes anyway? You do that with fresh laundry, which smells heavenly and fruity. Ironed clothes smell like they just survived a fire in a hardware factory. I’m not sure why you’d take a huge whiff of that scent in particular. However, if your iron does not contain asbestos, smell your ironed clothes all you like. I’m not gonna judge.
Our ol’ friends here are back to repair this 1960 Plymouth Fury. It is a mighty attractive car, mainly because of the chrome trim. Now, I come from the future, and all cars are covered in chrome. In fact, absolutely everything is covered in chrome in the future. We have chrome chairs, chrome bathtubs, even chrome houses. I have an adorable chrome cat, and chrome grass grows in my lawn. Now, you may be thinking, “Why chrome?” Is it the only metal available in the future? Maybe chrome serves a structural purpose; maybe it makes everything work better.
Well, it’s because chrome looks cool.
If the Women Don’t Find You Handsome, They Ought to Find You Handy
I met a guy like this once. The handy type. He was an auto mechanic by trade and he claimed he could fix absolutely anything. In the time I knew him, I watched him fix three burnt out cars, twelve old lamps, and he even rewired two whole houses. Since we were somewhat friendly, he offered to fix anything I needed, free of charge. This was very generous of him, so I called him up the other day to ask for some help with a few odds and ends. However, I was quite disappointed when he flatly refused to help. He said, “Sorry bud, I really can’t help you with that. That’s between you, God, and your proctologist.”
Ever since then, I lost all respect for the man — and I still can’t sit down.