Guess it's time to put the bow and arrow back into storage! Oh, oh oh ... I mean a very lounge-singer throaty kind of oh, oh, oh ... please, wipe the sweat of anxiety right off my brow, for sure, kind of oh, oh, oh ...
Heck, batten down the hatches and tighten those chastity belts! Forget obnoxious, criminally inclined neighbors and ice-cold slurpee anemic queens ... in the coming weeks, way too many hurricanes will have to be dealt with, not to mention wished-for sex with shutter-hammering, mosquito-slaying, generator-owning princes of dark nights who imbibe cold Miller lights in styrofoam goblets and give Manola well-deserved foot massages with battery-operated ... ehem ... multi-purpose barbaric camping utensils!
PS ... if you are unfamiliar with Crackass, drop me a line ... SATB is still recovering from its own personal deletopalooza.
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4 comments:
Thank God! Crackass is gone...lucky for you. Hurricanes...yeah yeah.
Welcome back. I just discovered your blog and have been thoroughly enjoying it. Good luck finding the hurricane season boyfriend. I was laughing so hard at that one.
YAY!! Welcome back. :) I'm so glad to hear that crackhead has left the premises.
p.s. when are YOU going to leave the premises and head up to Tally for drinks?
This shall be a meeting of minds, sure to change the world as we know it: you, Manola and Ms. LL Cool Babe over a pitcher of beer!
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