The art of playing the rules instead of playing a game. For example, trying to work out a walk in slow-pitch softball. Swing the bat, you puss!
Also applicable to weenies who demand free throws after the slightest contact in a pick-up basketball game and d-bags who take yardage penalties in backyard football games.
Pops: Hit it out of the park, boy!
Son: Don't pressure me, I'm trying to work the count.
Pops: Don't play lawyer ball, son.
Is way cooler than Night Rider.
The Hasslehoff isn't cool enough to squeegee the windshield of the General Lee.
An afficionado of adult entertainment.
"Hey Janet, could we move the sales meeting to the conference room? The pornophile across from my office is watching a three-way on his widescreen."
"It's nine thirty in the morning."
"It's porno, Janet, not gin."
A man, usually of Mediterranean or Latin origin, who receives gifts from a woman in exchange for providing her with companionship and sex. Typically, this relationship involves a younger man and an older woman. The younger man will usually have a name like Carlo or Konstantine and he will regularly wax his scrotum and will under no circumstances ever button his shirt higher than his sternum.
"Man, there were a lot of juggalos at that ICP concert last night."
1. A poorly maintained tambourine. Perhaps because it got dropped in a puddle or left outside or something.
2. Like a rusty trombone
, but for people who can't really play an instrument.
"Hey buddy, that's a pretty rusty tambourine."
"Yeah, I guess I dropped it in a puddle or left it outside or something."
"I thought it would be hot if I got a rusty trombone from Janet, but it was sort of like getting an amateur prostate exam and an indian burn at the same time. It's like kids aren't learning anything at band camp nowadays."
"You shouldn't say 'indian burn,' dude. That's not cool."
That last cup of coffee left in the office pot at 4:30 in the afternoon, you know, the one that's been cooking down all day until it's thick as molasses, burned, and dirty like 10,000-mile-old engine oil. Mmmm-mmmh.
Bob: That smells delightful. What is it, a vente americano from Starbucks?
Nancy: Nope, I just added some hot tap water to three fingers of office espresso.
A user-written compendium of cocktail recipes.
Bert: "I can't find 'Flaming Nazi Buster' in bourbon dictionary."
Jan: "Look under 'Nazi Buster, Flaming.'"