Monday May 16, 2016
7am (after 5 3/4 hours of sleep)
Goulash apple pie in sour cream filled Jejity Boots are only the beginnings of our story. I'm so fricken tired. I really need to get to sleep earlier. The sweetest of Swedish rolls have rolled so sweeply that I forgot to move to Spain. Chex mixed baby patties left nothing up to be desired. However, I forgot who you thought I knew I was. General Vox is less populii than I thought. Of course I thought a Vox who thought they were populii was nothing more than sour cream filled albinos.
I just realized I don't know how to spell miiandaring. Menandering? Meandering? Yeah, I think that's it. Meandering. What kind of a pill box do you think I am to be a short salamander? Work is one of my things I need to go do to be a mystery hunk pillow man. What kind of trials does a skunk boy endure, if he endures a train to the face?
Wilst thou my ever enduring gas fizz lame ass name calling chopper train? Philly jazz mongering Hell Boy wearing as a cheap toupee, ass monkey. Who is the fig leaf of nature? Who shines prettily in the moonlit day son of a slagg wearing sheep goat?
Nay I say, nay or neigh. For the constable of Gary Damontegue is a big fat fuddy duddy. Sunny Leiverman is my next of kin. There is nothing more expensive than a group of fudge wielding graham crackers who know nothing of the ultimate sport.
Shannon cares for the new video garrison.
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