I am Vigilus, the magic eyeball, eating bird soup laced with airline nutrient. Not bad, compared to what I usually get.
Faraway Utterland, possibly my next vacation target, is a place where a woman without a fish is like a man without a bicycle, but smells better, though she has to walk everywhere. Unless she can steal a bicycle, but they're rare there.
First, garbled marfingberries for dessert, then perhaps cookies and lint for the main course. Though cookies and lint make a lousy supper if you forget the beer. Where is my beer again?
On the other hand, cookies never attack if you stand tall. If you stand tall, and look them right in the eye, if they have eyes, but then I generally don't eat them anyway. Because eyes.
May the Fork bestick you, in a pleasant way if possible.
Ballerina buttstorm reported to be coming this way, soon. Another one. Yeah — like I've never experienced that before.
Beautiful, unfurnished horse for rent, only slightly used once, by the Marquess of Furm.
On a related note, I've been proposed as the next Marquess of Furm (True!), but may decline the honor as I understand that I'd have to wear a kilt, and I don't want to wear a kilt over my nice flowery dress (it would only mock my manhood) (unless I have this all backward).
Have extra info to add?
If the commenting system is out again, then email sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Still trying.
