Well, of course, it has to come from a big resin Guernsey, all ten feet of her. I think if you had to be painted up and ride around on the back of a flatbed trailer all day, your teats would probably make unusual flavors, too.
Is she dreaming of flying over the moon?
Do the teats become clogged with peanut butter swirl?
Is the ice cream pre-churned with a curl on top?
Well, at least she's been saved from one indignity.
I want to free the plastic cow.
3 comments:
Whooee! She's a beauty, Speedway. Ten feet of resin Guernsey with ice cream udders. Isn't evolution a wonderful thing?
The planning authorities don't allow large advertising structures over here (or buildings in the shape of burgers) so I have to look to the US and Australia for my fix of that peculiar brand of joyous insanity. Ever since I was a kid I've loved seeing photos of those things (hot dog cars and giant … er … cockerels).
I do hope you manage to set her free one day so that she can romp in a meadow all her own.
As for that sign … I laughed so hard when I saw it. I MUST have one so I can sneak into one of the village fields and hang it around the neck of some lucky bovine lady.
What a glorious post. You've made my day.
'Evening, Dave. Poor cow, with all the straps and bungie cords securing her to the trailer, she must feel as though she'a an S/M cow (Sour Milk).
Hee hee
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