Ouch, woman. That man is flirting with you and you just shoot him down again! You are merciless to this guy. One of these days, he's gonna up and leave you for some younger candy striper, and you are ... not even going to notice.
The recently retching wretch recovers enough to escape from the pier and the nausea inducing dialogue. Not us, though. We're stuck here another day and probably Sunday as well.
Poor Jeff.. He really IS pathetic.And awkward. More awkward than pathetic, but pathetic in a really unflattering way. So pathetic, in fact, that Mary has to take his head in her hand, proving that she really DOES have a least one hand full with him. As a reader, I feel cheated that these two can come out with what passes for emotion, but we, the tormented, loyal followers never get to see any evidence of their caring for one another but for dinners at the BumBoat that are witnessed only by long-dead, stuffed fish that, like us, appear to stare unbelieving as Mary and Jeff fumble through awkward conversations like the one here. That guy who left? I expect to see him stuffed and mounted on the wall at the BumBoat the next time Mary and Jeff dine there.
I am the stuffed fish nailed to the wall of The Bum Boat. I have seen many a beige meal pass between these two as, with tepid affection, they sing the praises of Mary.
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This strip is exploring some of the most tepid ways to verbally express affection.
The recently retching wretch recovers enough to escape from the pier and the nausea inducing dialogue. Not us, though. We're stuck here another day and probably Sunday as well.
"Hands full with me." All three of them?
Poor Jeff.. He really IS pathetic.And awkward. More awkward than pathetic, but pathetic in a really unflattering way. So pathetic, in fact, that Mary has to take his head in her hand, proving that she really DOES have a least one hand full with him. As a reader, I feel cheated that these two can come out with what passes for emotion, but we, the tormented, loyal followers never get to see any evidence of their caring for one another but for dinners at the BumBoat that are witnessed only by long-dead, stuffed fish that, like us, appear to stare unbelieving as Mary and Jeff fumble through awkward conversations like the one here. That guy who left? I expect to see him stuffed and mounted on the wall at the BumBoat the next time Mary and Jeff dine there.
LouiseF, that was beautifully put.
I am the stuffed fish nailed to the wall of The Bum Boat.
I have seen many a beige meal pass between these two as, with tepid affection, they sing the praises of Mary.
Did she just dislocate his jaw?
Oh, boy, today's Sunday strip is nauseating. I may need some Pepto-Bismol.
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