A Random Image

I wasn’t just dreaming, Donny Osmond DID record ‘Soldier Of Love’ in 1989. Holy God, we are all going to die.

It’s sort of interesting to me that lately none of the titles are, ehm, syncing up with the entries. So, if they’re not beholden to do that why not just go all out and have a literary spasm erupt in place of a title? Has about as much meaning, I ’spose. Henceforth, I will do that. All bets are off, of course, if I luck upon a really, really great and super-superb descriptive header that is actually representative of the post’s content. Well, then.

Why write the post? Why not just let the header stand there on its own, basking in naked, unadulterated, non-pasteurized and no-preservative-having glory?

Some titles that have careened around a corner in my brain lately are as follows:

+ Turn A Different Corner And We Never Would Have Met. Would You Care?*

+ I’ll Beat You To Death With Your Laptop.

+ I’d Buy That Guitar If Only It Sported A Girlier Pickguard.

+ The Best Nickname I Ever Had Was ‘Slick’, Heh-Heh.

+ And That’s When Your Head Split Into Four And A Flower Shot Out The Top Of Each One.

+ My Kid Dressed Up As Angus Young For Halloween. Be Judgmental Of Me As A Parent, You Fucker.

+ Once Upon A Time In The Land Of Kajagoogoo

I will also be experimenting with the practice of ending entries abruptly and with no evidentiary transitioning nor the standard punchy, well-wrapped summation which usually follows. Let’s get it on.

Speaking of getting it on, why is it that, every time I work my breasts out of the standard holster and rub them in relief at the end of the day, my husband behaves as if I’m doing that solely for his benefit? The real-time image of a chick rubbing her tits is apparently a magical, magical thing, no matter how many times it’s been witnessed previously.

That’s all I got, folks. Go on, scoot now.

*Thank you SO MUCH, George Michael, for all the trucked-up teenybopper angst. Good LORD.

6 worked it out »

  1. The Dane 11.1.2005

    I like the image of a holster. It’s like you were preppin’ to shoot him. Or at the least mug the poor sap. Run li’l fellah, run! Yer gonna git shotted!

     
  2. skillzy 11.2.2005

    Everyone knows that the Good Lord made titties solely for the benefit of men. What exactly do you get out of them that’s not outweighed by some problem they cause? And you know they’re powful, so anything that results from your setting them free and massaging them in our presence is your own fault, not ours.

     
  3. Coelecanth 11.2.2005

    We’ve been livin together for 3 years, and every time she let’s em out I’m still spellbound. It’s not that I can’t help myself, it’s just that there’s a real live naked woman RIGHT THERE! And what’s more, I don’t have to pretend to be cool about it. She already knows I find her hotter than a housefire in Hades so a little panting and drooling isn’t going to scare her off.

    Some posts I’d like to see:

    -And then we hit ‘em with the chicken cannon.

    -Acutally, he did drive better with his cellphone up his ass.

    -The dolphin said “Fetch me a bicycle.”

    -Elvis Costello and Tom Waits co-written album on sale now.

    -It’s a shame whole families can be torn apart by a thing so simple as a pack of wild dogs.

    Ok, one of those is less about the post and more about needing some good new music.

     
  4. Tawcan 11.3.2005

    Stumbled onto this site. Great layout. Very interesting. :)

     
  5. redclay 11.4.2005

    best album title.

    “your love and other lies” by buddy miller.

    the rest, i’ll leave alone. i am drunk, and could go on about that for days.

     
  6. Bob 11.12.2005

    I have seen your breasts holstered, and the image of them unholstered and you giving them the attention they deserve is second only to me giving them the attention they deserve…..

     

RSS feed for comments on this post.

(you know you want to)