Tuesday, August 21, 2007

The following handwritten letter was found tonight, crumpled up on the marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I realize the recently released reality show realigning reciprocal real estate realtors is really recalcitrant and reasonably ridiculous. Damn, I bit my tongue when I wrote that just now. With my pen I mean. I mean my teeth bit my tongue. Not my pen of course, because it’s like totally inanimate—unless you’ve got one of those new biting pens, then you'll wanna keep it away from your mouth and when buffing the ‘ol round mound (ouch!). Say, how’s your unsightly back acne? I’ll rub you down with Clearasil again if you want. Let me know because I’m like, so busy pretending to fake my way through imaginary hypothetical situations as an invisible deaf mute. Well, only theoretically of course.

You’ll never believe where I got a whiffle ball stuck,


Song of the Day:

Issac Hayes, “Hyperbolicsllabicsesquedalymistic”

No comments: