"Snail away, come snail away, come snail away with me." Is a line I never fell for. I'm too fast forem, me.
'Tis the season for roast newt. So, I'll be out of the office for a while then.
Ben, my pet Bengal tiger, housemate, and road manager, just ate one of the neighbors. I'm pretending that I didn't notice. Will keep you posted on events, if any, as they unfold. (Also hiding the litter box for a while.)
Cranberry-flavored neckties are no longer available in shades of either yellow or orange where I shop, though they are probably my least favorite anyway.
Fish farts are an acquired taste, if you're into that. Personally, I'm of a mind to regard them as a replacement for friends. And a sort of underarm reodorant. Dip a rag into the tank, wipe your pits, and no one will notice if you haven't gotten around to bathing yet this year, and then they take a few steps back and stay there — no more awkward attempts at small talk, no more invites to join the crew after work, or invites to mass parties. Sweet. So sweet.
Generally you don't fuck with the vermin around here. Remember to salute and always say "please". Do it, but. Sometimes they eat you anyway.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? About the same, eh?
