Hot Clams!

It is indeed tragic the way we can’t gain admittance to the Dead Poet’s Society. But its nice to know that you get shandied and have smoothies brought to you in the tub, proof that sometimes nice boys like us. I am in no mood for fraternizing with boys, nice or not. I refuse to leave the house until the new teeth i ordered arrive. The temporary ones have become loose and have a habit of landing in the stew. Just the other night i was growing impatient in a losing battle with a sandwich, so i plunked them into my champagne glass. A whirlwind of elbow patches as the english majors took to their heels!

To me Sundays are the equivalent of the flaccid zone. I am going to eat some coffee grinds.

24 hours straight of…

oh sorry! byeee

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