Arborists are into treesomes. Which leads to a lot of unplant pregnancies.
(4 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
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(4 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)Loading...Romance flowers when you least expect! My pal Pete Rose, a bouquet at the racetracks, has a girlfriend named Bea. They met at a party, and she laughed when he offered to fertilizer. She looked at his pistil and said “I bet you don’t have stamena.” How a pollen right? And yet he nectar anyway! Then they ducked into a bathroom and she bloom on all florist. Wow, they seed an opportunity and didn’t waste mulch time; now they’re inseparable. That’s love for you, not just a ficus of the imagination. It never turns out as you plant.
(1 votes, average: 1.00 out of 5)Loading...I didn’t want to walk in the woods. But I was forest.
(2 votes, average: 4.50 out of 5)Loading...I wish I could piss on a tree! Oh, how I’ve pined and urined fir that scents of pees! Or at least dribble on my balsam.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Loading...The Northern Lights are so bright they can set off forest fires. There’s nothing more spectaular than A roaring Borealis.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Loading...What tree is thriving in this depressed economy? The weeping will owe.
(3 votes, average: 3.67 out of 5)Loading...Arborists are underappreciated. They should take a bough.
(3 votes, average: 4.33 out of 5)Loading...If I were a tree, I wood like poplar music. Especially Spruce Sprigsteen. Or Johnny Cash’s Balsam Prison Blues.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Loading...Successful mating results in spawn attaineous combustion.
(6 votes, average: 2.67 out of 5)Loading...