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After 10 years of marriage, Jan Van de Boer, still unable to locate a single erogenous zone while making love to his wife was secretly pleased that he could find at least 10 of her erroneous zones.
Jan Van de Boer became a grocer because he loved calling for a “clean up in aisle 5” ever since that one Christmas when Santa Claus left him an intercom system in his stocking.
Jan Van de Boer believed that you should never trust men in porkpie hats, they are always loitering about on street corners, toothpicks dangling from their mouths as they suspiciously watch you ordering coffee at Starbucks
Jan Van de Boer could see Keith’s point that men in porkpie hats made great dance teachers but, he still wouldn’t trust them when it came to odds just because they liked to hang out at dog or horse tracks.
Jan van de Boer’s wife left without a word and weeks later when he finally noticed he wondered where the posters clinging desparetly to telephone polls were and over breakfast one morning he missed the faded, smiling picture staring at him from his milk carton.
Jan van de Boer cultivates a secret, magic garden in his backyard where the plants pull themselves up by their roots just to see how they are doing.
Jan van de Boer thought that nudism sounded like it might be fun if it wasn’t for all the naked people who made it seem somehow distasteful.
Jan van de Boer believed it was best to never trust anyone who seemed completely without guile as there was always something that seemed “off” about them.
Jan van de boer decided it was time to sell his Tonya Harding honeymoon video so he could buy Amy Fisher’s video.
Rufus thinks that Jan Van de Boer is up to something and shouldn’t be trusted, but my friend Schuster thought this was a ridiculous position to take and immediately demanded that they break into Van de Boer’s house, just to prove his point.
Jan van de Boer felt that the potato chip crumbs ground into the carpet – Piccadilly Salt & Vinegar – were a dead give away that Rufus and Shuster had broken into his house and had probably spent several hours enjoying his celebrity sex tape collection while he had been away answering questions about “certain proclivities” that SAC Jack Brody, of the FBI, found to be suspicious and perverted.
Rufus thought that Van de Boer probably viewed naked midgets as some sort of symbolism for mankind’s eternal struggle against oppression, but my friend Schuster told him to shut up and pass the chips, and that sometimes a midget is just a midget.
Jan van de Boer, non-plussed that his midget fetish was no longer a secret, tried explaining to Rufus & Shuster – as he passed the dip – that his obsession started in his early 20’s when he had experienced a realistic sex dream involving him and a midget woman and that even to this day he is not sure if it was a dream or something that happened during spring break.
SAC Jack Brody confiscated Jan van de Boer’s 2008 Girls of Krispy Kreme Calendar during a raid on his home; the federal agent was ubable to explain why it wasn’t later accounted for in the inventory of the seized contraban from Van de boer’s home.
Jan van de Boer extolled the virtues of women’s tennis to Rufus & Schuster explaining that an afternoon spent watching the leggy Russian beauty Maria Sharapova’s finely toned body glistening in sweat or the busty Jelena Dokic battle for supremacy on the open court was almost as good as watching celebrity honeymoon videos or midget porn; Rufus said he agreed, however, Schuster seemed uncharacteristically quiet on the subject.
Jan van de Boer called in sick because of the time difference between Denver and Melbourne - he was scheduled to start his shift at 3:25PM but it was only 7:25AM in the home of the Australian Open - and since he found the idea of missing Maria Sharapova square off against Jelena Jankovic in the last day of the semi finals to be worse then actually having the flu which, is what he told his boss he had (fake coughs and wheezing added to give it a sense of realism), he concluded that missing a day of work to be well worth it.
Jan van de Boer ran afoul of Melbourne in other ways besides time zone disparity; Heather – the ex wife – had a penchant for a card game called Millles Borne but Jan, in his innate stubbornness, insisted it was really called Melbourne and even after viewing the box the game came in claimed it was wrong (he was sure he played an Australian card game once that had names of crops such as rye and wheat on some of the cards) even though he had no way of proving to Heather the error of her ways.
Jan van de Boer began to think he was spending too much time with his girlfriend the night she worked late and he was home alone with a pint of chocolate chip mint and the Lifetime movie channel.
Jan van de Boer’s date seemed a little uncomfortable when he glibly ordered her the Nelly Furtados with a side of Heuvos’s Placido Domingos.
Jan van de Boer handed me a beer and told me to chill as he knew things would work out in the end but, being a belligerent mix of Irish, German and Portuguese, I wanted to grab a pair of garden sheers and perform a manicure on the hands that violated me; Van de Boer tsked, tsked me sadly saying visiting violence on an enemy never solved a problem but I disagreed and after kicking Jan in the nuts I found that I felt positively giddy.
Jan van de Boer mourned the day his life went from an exclamation point and become a question mark.
Jan van de Boer surveying the patrons milling about the bar suddenly understood what happened to America and, in a rare moment of pique, opined to no one in particular that the little black dress was the only good thing to come out of the 20th century.
Jan van de Boer, voted most likely to drive a Zamboni in his senior year, was the only one in his class actually living up to the promises of his fading youth and he enjoyed lording this over his former classmates at each reunion, but the day the ice melted before the championship game between the Winterhawks and Nixon’s Plumbing Jan realized that maybe this esteemed honor was actually meant as a cruel joke.
Jan van de Boer didn’t expect much from his love life, after all the first song he made out to was “Me and You and a Dog Named Boo” , but as he explained to Heather it could have been much worse since he was wearing headgear during Video Killed The Radio Star and, that being said, since he was considerate the occasional booty call should not be out of the question.
Jan van de Boer felt profound gratitude for all of the nuclear attack drills he participated in during his elementary school days, because with nuclear war predicted to start today, June 12th, he was prepared to dive under the nearest school desk.
Jan van de Boer made a firm mental to note to change religions when, upon waking this morning, he discoverd that the much touted nuclear showdown between “us and them” did not occur while he was asleep - overall van de Boer was relieved as waking up dead would have been a tragic waste of morning wood.
Jan van de Boer tried explaining to his mother that he was not an atheist, but rather, a joyfully agnostic Gnostic who believes in evolution- a theory she sums up uncharitably as “monkeys wearing pants.”
Jan van de Boer sipped coffee in a mixed mood of sardonic whimsy and angst, thinking that life might be easier if he were a Vargas girl.
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