What the heck is going on here? People are just leaving their utensils laying around outside now? This is rude no matter your size or stature; but when you’re a Bunyanesque giant, it’s especially rude for you to be leaving your spoons laying around! Somebody is going to trip over this, and then who will be laughing? Huh!?!? And please, who leaves the cherry behind? Everybody knows you eat that first.
Hellllloooo ladies! This delightful young lady has an enormous spoon. And it appears to have some sort of golden varnish on it – a patina of warmth and shine that radiates a happiness not normally associated with spoons, no matter their size. The golden finish scares me a bit, though, from a health standpoint – particularly if you’re going to introduce this spoon to high temperatures, say, by stirring soup. But whatever – they wouldn’t sell this if it wasn’t safe to use, would they?
This looks like a nice hippo. If I had him for my very own, I’d name him Dieter von Crabapple III. Isn’t that a nice name? I bet he’s a friendly hippo. And look at the size of the spoon he’s holding! That tells me that Dieter is a good cook. Have you ever had a giant blue hippo make dinner for you? I haven’t either, but I’ll bet it’s an amazing experience.
This is a big ol’ wooden spoon. Granny would use this to stir the hell out of some chili. Oh, no, wait, no she wouldn’t – because this young lady has been putting it on her head! Young lady, don’t you realize how many germs and bugs are crawling around on the average scalp? A lot, let me tell you, and Granny doesn’t want your hair-bugs in her chili. To this spoon, I say “Thanks but no thanks!”
The lobster is a truly delicious creature, but generally speaking it’s tough to recommend from a cost/benefit standpoint – the flavor is there, but often the value proposition simply isn’t, once you factor in the price-per-pound and the fact that most of the creature is inedible. All of that goes out the window when you’ve got a lobster this big, because the freakin’ claw on this thing would be extraordinary! I would fill my sink up with clarified butter and dunk that sumbitch in it! Then I’d eat it!
AAAAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH! They’ve had all the abuse they’re going to take, and they’re plenty mad! You would be too if you spent the last two centuries being struck repeatedly by 16-pound balls, even if they do have fanciful colors and designs. Who can blame any of the participants of the Great Bowling Pin Revolution? Surely not I. I have taken part in knocking down more than my fair share of them.
Man, does this take me back. We used to have one of these exact things in my back yard when I was a kid. My uncle Sid built it one day when my parents and I weren’t home. Sid was always doing stuff like that – filling the bathtub with orange juice, writing big long plays in Portugese, rolling around in his own filth and then going to K-Mart. Too much homemade potato wine will do that to you.