For the first time in my life I have nothing to say while my mouth is full of food. Enjoy! (Tomorrow I'll be back to normal. Probably. What is normal anyway? Maybe I'll find out soon. Will let you know.)
Cow orkers. (Maybe you've had some, even some afflicted by cowboy mouth. A symptom of gallop disease, I hear.)
My accountant is Harvey Hammerhandel. You don't want to get on his bad side. That's why I pay him. Mostly in cornsilk, which he has a fetish for.
[Nobel prizes you never hear about] (Not here either.)
Albania did not impress me as a good place to lick. I tried all the buildings I could get to when I was there (and the insides too — even some of the doorknobs), but everything was a disappointment, especially my trip out of the country with a full military escort. You'd think that they could find better things to do with their limited funds, like upping the flavor profile of at least some of their toilet seats.
I bet I could teach myself to dance quicker than I could find a reason why I'd want to, let alone spending more time stuck here with you.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? I don't know either. (I'm lying. I know everything, and am better than you in most other ways too.)
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
