Yellowing, mild at the center, I can tell. Shut your bloody trap! This is a groove it’s not the
Army, and neither of us is Rock Star! For this is my tummy (check it out, Diana Ross’ alphabet)
which is one huge long page of x’s. Exes. Excess. Access. Ok, I had to blow my nose because
I could say nothing of substance (I haven’t yet finished my first cool beverage). I am just sitting
Army, and neither of us is Rock Star! For this is my tummy (check it out, Diana Ross’ alphabet)
which is one huge long page of x’s. Exes. Excess. Access. Ok, I had to blow my nose because
I could say nothing of substance (I haven’t yet finished my first cool beverage). I am just sitting
on the back porch watching the Band Building burn. It used to be the Home Ec Building. Bldg.
[a few hours later:] Okay, back to bed. I have relayed nothing of substance (if I go back to the
top & read all the way thru wd there even be a THREAD (why caps?)?? Now is when everyone
has brunch. It’s 2:17am on a Sunday – Oh the Oz (& poor Maurice) – he’s gone back to from
whence he came. He had a stoplight in his living room – too many MALES on his hung art.
