I thought you would like to see what your madlib looks like with my words. This is funny and an excellent entry for the New Years Madlib contest. There were some words that got mixed up. That's not your fault. I noted it, because the last entry wasn't mixed up. Mine get mixed up. I wonder what the problem is. Anyway, it's supposed to have wrong words to make it funny. Keep writing and keep madlibing. Good luck with the other judges.
New Year’s Gaging Eve!
This is the first New Years Eve that I’ve been alone. Now, don’t get so sentimental on me. I prefer it this way! There is a reason that I’m alone this year. It all happened on December 31st, 2006...
I had planned a party for 48 people. I sent out invitations to all of them, thinking only a few would reply. Unfortunately, they all replied.
I had barely set the chips and oil dip out when my first guest arrived at 4 pm., 8 hours early! It was Robert Redford, holding an enormous bottle of Chateau De Gatorade. I didn’t even remember sending an invitation to him! Then the floodgates opened. One by one, cars lined the narrow streets of my manufactured home community, and a steady stream of partygoers flowed into my 14x28 trailer.
I had a huge punch bowl, and since my party was a “bring your own beverage” party, the guests dumped some interesting things into it. One guy poured in some orange juice. My uncle Jim H. lobbed in some fresh cabbages, and another guest added some hot, steamy peroxide! I refused to drink it. I had my own little flask of Tequila tucked away in my panties.
Sometime around ten, there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and saw a young policeman.
I hid my Abilify behind my back, cleared my throat and said “Can I help you, officer?” I was very worried, because there was a cloud of Abilify smoke above everybody’s head.
“Are you Greta Oglethorpe?” He asked me, tapping his Billy club repeatedly against his muscular toe.
“Umm. Yes, that is me.” I stammered, as a puff of Abilify smoke wafted from my mouth.
“Great!” the officer shouted. “Today is your lucky day!” he said, as he drew a boom box from behind his back. Cheesy disco music blared from the speakers. I barely recognized the tune. I think it was a disco version of You are My Sunshine, but I’m not sure.
The officer pushed his way through the door, and made a space between the sardine packed party people.
He started gyrating to the horrible music, slowly removing his uniform. He whipped off his club and twirled it in the air, tossing it carelessly on uncle Jim H., smacking him in the face. He tore off his sock revealing a well developed set of knee. For the grand finale, he grabbed a nearby pig and shoved it in his finger, eliciting gasps of horror from my party guests.
They all left before the ball dropped, and I really can’t blame them. All except uncle Jim H.. He was so impressed with the officer / stripper’s performance, that they sat at my kitchen table, smoking motor oil and talking about tricks of the “trade.” by then, I was ready for a glass of orange juice-cabbages-peroxide punch!
Good luck with the other judges
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