Slim...
Chance I will restart this blog.
Ravings of a lunatic here.
Ah, the limerick. Language Art in its most base form, for demented schoolboys and smart ass English teachers. And I love, love, love it. Why does the limerick lend itself to such depravity? I don’t know, but let’s investigate.
Labels: history, Literature, witches
My friend has this really annoying clock. She's sitting here laughing at me while I make this post. I really hate that fucking clock. When I spend the night, I have to stop the pendulum from swinging, because the damn thing bongs every hour, when I am trying to sleep. It took her a long time realize that the stoppage of her clock coincided with my visits. So now, I listen to the clock and complain about it. She got it as an anniversary present, so I suppose it has some special meaning to her. But to me, it's just a really annoying damn clock. The last time I spent the night, I was too drunk to care about the bong-bong-bonging of the clock, so I just let it ride. But one day, one day I fully intend to take a baseball bat to that clock.
Someone told me that the MomTalk post was in bad taste. And my other posts aren't? Well, I really have to say FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. I can make fun of my own damn family when ever I damn well want. I haven't even started with MomTalk, and after that, I'll be moving on to my mildy retarded brother! So there! Suck crusty moose balls!
When the weather gets colder, long about mid November, my skin gets dry on my lower legs, hands, upper back, and in a small place just forward of my left ear. Oh yeah, the right nipple, too. It drives me fucking nuts! When I scratch it, it looks like I’m adjusting a bra strap. Which, of course, I don't have. I'm just saying...
Where'd you go?I miss you so
I'm trying to tell you something about my life
Large, loft-style apartments in New York City are well within the price range of most people-whether they are employed or not.