Monday, December 19, 2011


Super High

But it gives me the cramps.  I keep dialing around for a place to
breathe.  Grammatically.  And I keep typing “whee!” instead of

Works well for seizure day.  So for Pete’s sake don’t get bummed!
The bloody royalty are even all into it now, so, you know.  When you
park his leg like this his rawhide crawls!

Did how to cut the mustard every worry you?  You’re no joke
and that’s a well-practiced sneer, drives pronouns into a
waxy heart. 

I’m as happy as clams about that, though.  Horizontal entertainment
goes a long way, after all.  And yours rather defies geometrical.
Here, I’ve boiled you a few eggs.

I should have no trouble putting the remaining 15 hits into the
cruise control.  Even if yours is Grand Central Station.  And I hear
there’s a leather bar somewhere nearby.

Hey, great news:  that window isn’t plastic!  And you might be
interested in the pair of ghosts hovering just outside of it,
their foreheads level with the sill.

But I can just tell.  There’s no negativity.  It’s all about
love.  The real deal.  And your pet scooting her butt across your
living room carpet to get it all out.