'Its the sea cause its blue and Munchy's underwear is new.' Some of these 'pardon me'
details never fail to crack me up. Its the sort of declaration bimbo no. 1 would make. The
'kya hai,'after, takes the baton and runs with it. The only issue with chortling away at the
beach is that you have these acrid snail shells which you tend to swallow. Complimentary
they are, they come with the sand. Aye fuck... Even the snails abandon them.
The following account details the taste of a particular sea shell. A more thorough
understanding of life sciences would reveal that the snail shell didn't actually belong to
a snail.
The woes of being a brain-moron(new word (: ). The 'For brevity' revelation that a
dear dear friend swears by, doesn't really work for me. Heck! I know its just a
ruddy snail shell. Its more beige than brown. So for the sake of convenience
and of blondness, I christened it, well, 'a Snail Shell.' More beige than brown.
Now renegade supporters of the shell-shy snail would possibly applaud my seemingly endearing efforts while overlooking the amount of mental damage speech
slurring (I hereinafter, declare myself to be.... big dramatic pause... an Allitrator! Oiiiii!!) is.
But it would be ever more enduring to affirm the third degree of insipid that declares
war on your palate. (No more mulling. Shan't.)
Meanwhile, bimbo no. 2 is busy devising wise cracks. Sadly, they always seem
to fly into some abysmally inept corner of my already infatuated brain. Yes. Snail it is.
Until they hit the snail. Then creep down below the belt and amble about, finally
scrawling up insidiously making me want to take of my beach shorts and jump!
I must maintain protocol,
I must be civil,
and I must be, damn, that's it! High!
details never fail to crack me up. Its the sort of declaration bimbo no. 1 would make. The
'kya hai,'after, takes the baton and runs with it. The only issue with chortling away at the
beach is that you have these acrid snail shells which you tend to swallow. Complimentary
they are, they come with the sand. Aye fuck... Even the snails abandon them.
The following account details the taste of a particular sea shell. A more thorough
understanding of life sciences would reveal that the snail shell didn't actually belong to
a snail.
The woes of being a brain-moron(new word (: ). The 'For brevity' revelation that a
dear dear friend swears by, doesn't really work for me. Heck! I know its just a
ruddy snail shell. Its more beige than brown. So for the sake of convenience
and of blondness, I christened it, well, 'a Snail Shell.' More beige than brown.
Now renegade supporters of the shell-shy snail would possibly applaud my seemingly endearing efforts while overlooking the amount of mental damage speech
slurring (I hereinafter, declare myself to be.... big dramatic pause... an Allitrator! Oiiiii!!) is.
But it would be ever more enduring to affirm the third degree of insipid that declares
war on your palate. (No more mulling. Shan't.)
Meanwhile, bimbo no. 2 is busy devising wise cracks. Sadly, they always seem
to fly into some abysmally inept corner of my already infatuated brain. Yes. Snail it is.
Until they hit the snail. Then creep down below the belt and amble about, finally
scrawling up insidiously making me want to take of my beach shorts and jump!
I must maintain protocol,
I must be civil,
and I must be, damn, that's it! High!
2 comments:
darling 'Allitrator',
one reason that ppl usually don't comment on ur blog is perhaps they don'tunderstand.
i, on the other-hand am left wondering y aren't persuing english literature more seriously....what a waste!
btw, the term "brain-moron" is catchy...i grew 10% duller just reading it :P
hugz
@ mizfit
One reason I don't want to pursue english literature is that no one would ever be able to understand what I write. The last line is quite self-explanatory. Don't you agree? God bless the angel who ballyhooed me into posting... Amen.
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