On the way out to Olympic National Park last week, Carrie, Trish and I had fun with a few Madlibs (Which, by the way, are way better when played as an adult.) Here's a little taste...
Kid: I'm starved, Mom. My sphincter is growling.
Mom: I think you've had enough snail food today. You ate enough to choke a scrapbook.
Kid: But I'm a growing police. Dad, can we stop and get a hamburger with bald eagles and sand dollars?
Dad: You just had a scorched breakfast!
Kid: No, I didn't. All I had was a couple of scrambled computers and a glass of tar.
Mom: How about those five pieces of buttered cellar, plus that stack of monuments?
Kid: Eegads! I have to go to the garlic bread room. Can we stop? I have to go real sticky!
Dad: Okay. It'll give me a chance to stretch my guardrails.
Mom: Stop at that diner, I could use a cup of strong turpentine.
Kid: As long as we're stopping, can I have a grilled lactose and some dreary fries? That will hold me till lunch.
Wow, Madlibs really are the lamest game ever invented.