That Ain’t Dairy.



The following text conversation took place while Casey, a financial analyst, was waiting to give urine for his new firm’s drug test.

Casey: Hey, that place they sent me…apparently also does semen analysis.

Me: I bet you’re happy you’re only giving them urine, now, huh?

(two minutes later)

Casey: Alert…I’m still in the waiting room, and from a back office, I heard a man ask someone, ‘Hey, do you want some of my yogurt.’  Should I be concerned on that person’s behalf?

Me: ‘Hey…why is this yogurt so thin and ever-so-slightly transparent?  And why is it so salty?’

Casey: I got news for you…that ain’t yogurt.

Me: It might, however, be Greek.  Was the last patient a Mr. Konstanapolis?

Casey: Thank you.  You’ve ruined both oral sex and yogurt for me, forever.

Me: So if I offered you either, you’d turn it down.

Casey: This conversation never happened.

Me: That’s what I thought.

11 thoughts on “That Ain’t Dairy.

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