No cooking jokes or “bun in the oven” references for me. This one is easy, if you know Baker’s background. She went to school at Georgia, and thus, she’s a…
Or just Peach, for short. The Peach, if she’s on her game. Princess Peach, if the mood strikes.
Like Baker, Princess Peach floats through the air.
I’m really not trying to make any sexual innuendos with this one. I’ve good so far. Cut me some slack. DON’T JUDGE ME!!!
And secondly, just because I couldn’t stand it anymore…
Even if it turns out that she’s German, or South African, or Lithuanian, or whatever, she’ll still be Dutch in my heart. Rock the cheese and orange, Dutch. Rock it hard.
The Dutch know where it’s at.
I could make a joke about the number of water barricades in both the Low Countries and the WNBA, but that would be uncouth, inconsiderate, and un-P.C. Besides, The Writer’s lesbian friends would kill him. I don’t want to come off like Jay Mohr, in any case.
When asked for comment, Jay Mohr said “Will work for food.”
Until tomorrow, friends…
See ya, Space Cowboy…