I Remember When Performance Art Was Greasy Hair, Holding Dead Daisies

…moaning about unrequited love and Biafra, while buzzed on burpy beer and wiping your eyes from the pot smoke. Intense.

Some shit sure changes as time passes. (The entertainment budget’s apparently gotten a whole lot bigger, for one thing.)

But a reciprocating saw?!?!?!?

Can I sue the bitch little tart for ruining “This Old House” forever for me? With what she’s paying for tuition while she indulges her exhibitionist streak, I’m sure she’s got the smack.

6 Responses to “I Remember When Performance Art Was Greasy Hair, Holding Dead Daisies”

  1. major dad says:

    I don’t think the “performers or is that demonstrationers?” are students. Just whack jobs. Wonder if there was a quiz afterwards?

  2. mojo says:

    Oh, c’mon. You just know Bob Villa had a “f***s-all” stashed away somewhere…

  3. Rob says:

    Did she light a cigarette afterward? If she did, we’re talking real trouble.

  4. Dave E. says:

    That prof’s excuse sounds kind of phallacious to me.

  5. Mr. Bingley says:

    I’m pickin’ up good vibrations
    She’s giving me the excitations…

  6. Gary from Jersey says:

    There’s nothin’ a good Sawsall can’t do.

Image | WordPress Themes