spaw, we luv ya.

Also, Mudcat's great. Ya throw out a thought pre-lunch and, bingo, post-lunch ya get all this food for thought.

More ...

One sandwich short of a picnic.
One kiwi fruit short of a good compost.

Others from the Casselman collection which come to mind
I couldn't warm to him/her if we was cremated together.
S/he's so cheap s/he'd fart on a stone to save the grease.
You smell better 'n a two-bit whore on nickle Tuesday.
S/He's got her/his snow suit on and s/he's headed north. (which apparently refers to someone being three sheets to the wind ... drunk. Don't understand it m'self...)

And one from my mother's youth ...

You never know when you go to sit
Where the man in the balconey's gonna spit.

That's *spit*, spaw.

sian