... whilst I was sciencing in my basement lab. Well, I mean it was more like blinking up a turkey sammich out of thin air than actually fixing one with her hands, but it's the thought that counts.
Her belly button was showing in my dream. Little known fact: If you press your ear against Jeannie's navel and listen closely, you can hear the winds of Uranus.
Jeannie was mad because I was spending too much time sciencing and not paying attention to her. She blinked us out of the lab and onto the deck of a 1920s luxury ocean liner bound for Morocco. Clark Gable was aboard and gave me his autograph. I noticed he had mustard on the lapel of his Italian silk dinner jacket. I couldn't tell if it was Grey Poupon or not. I assumed it was. I mentioned it to him, but he said he frankly didn't give a damn.
I hadn't seen Jeannie for half an hour while immersed in bumping elbows with screen legends, so I looked around the ballroom and saw her doing a slow strip tease for some rowdy sailors over in the corner by the orchestra. They had booked Linda Ronstadt and Nelson Riddle for the crossing.
I went over there and covered Jeannie with my dinner jacket to hide her nudity, and told her to blink us back to the lab. As you might imagine, the sailors weren't too keen on that plan. They were getting ready to lay an ass-whipping on me when some soldiers on leave from the Normandy invasion came strolling in. They saw a fight involving sailors and naturally wanted a piece of that action. Apparently crackerjacks are to a soldier what a red flag is to a bull. Jeannie and I slipped out the back, Jack, while the dogfaces and squids were duking it out amongst themselves.
Her belly button was showing in my dream. Little known fact: If you press your ear against Jeannie's navel and listen closely, you can hear the winds of Uranus.
Jeannie was mad because I was spending too much time sciencing and not paying attention to her. She blinked us out of the lab and onto the deck of a 1920s luxury ocean liner bound for Morocco. Clark Gable was aboard and gave me his autograph. I noticed he had mustard on the lapel of his Italian silk dinner jacket. I couldn't tell if it was Grey Poupon or not. I assumed it was. I mentioned it to him, but he said he frankly didn't give a damn.
I hadn't seen Jeannie for half an hour while immersed in bumping elbows with screen legends, so I looked around the ballroom and saw her doing a slow strip tease for some rowdy sailors over in the corner by the orchestra. They had booked Linda Ronstadt and Nelson Riddle for the crossing.
I went over there and covered Jeannie with my dinner jacket to hide her nudity, and told her to blink us back to the lab. As you might imagine, the sailors weren't too keen on that plan. They were getting ready to lay an ass-whipping on me when some soldiers on leave from the Normandy invasion came strolling in. They saw a fight involving sailors and naturally wanted a piece of that action. Apparently crackerjacks are to a soldier what a red flag is to a bull. Jeannie and I slipped out the back, Jack, while the dogfaces and squids were duking it out amongst themselves.
