I sin; I sin; I sip the flavored coffee. It was a gift. Patience is a gift. I have it coming out my ears, thanks to these vitamins. I woke up in the night at the moment the power fizzed out because I feel absence acutely. Nothing is always scarier than something.
Mr. H was reading this doomed personal internet homepage the other day, and he was rather crestfallen when he realized I was mocking Tom Cruise in the post where I was blathering about how lucky I am to be married. AMAZING. But the dirty secret is that everything I wrote was true. Normal people just aren’t supposed to be effusive. We must hide our light under the bridge with the rest of the trolls. O, grimy peasants of the internet, do not fear my bliss. Embrace it, and perhaps it will rub off on you, the toiling masses. In your nascent apprehension, already you must have realized that I regularly eat delicious things for dinner with a man I love. It is not so shocking.
Ehhhhhhhh, how you say. What else. Nothing and something had a race. Something won. The heat is talking. I swan.
While the following may have nothing to do with anal sex, consider it painful and unexpected, in the spirit of David Hager.
Mr. H and I went for a walk t’other day, and we ended up close to a Dunkin’ Donuts. Since I can never pass up corn syrup solids, I jabbed him in the ribs until he agreed to buy me a Dunkaccino. He’s the one that carries the wallet on our little walks. I am not to be trusted. But he needed to use the ATM, and while he mis-entered his PIN with his monkey paws, I gawped at a sign that read “Atention Dunkin Donut’s Customer’s. Use ATM before making you’r purchase.” I flailed and sputtered, and he laughed at me.
Then I noticed the sign on the other side of the beverage delivery bay: “Dunkin Donut’s Customer’s thankyou for you’r patience. All our machine’s are working again, including latte’s and gift cards. Thankyou.”
Mr. H said that the sign was funny, but how bent I got was funnier. Fine! It took me many blocks to shut up about it, and that was only because I knew I could talk about it again on the internet. My drink sucked anyway. It was diluted with the tear’s of the infant Jesu’s. At least I hope that’s what that was. You’r a jerk!