Dear Lisa,
I’m investing in a footwear art studio that only makes ceramic flip-flops. They come in two different kiln-inspired styles—flat thong ashtray glaze trekkers and hand-painted flowerpot ankle-cuppers. Sure they’re clunky and impossible to walk in, but all sales go to help support high arches of low stature. Hey if the tables were on the other feet, then would you still turn your best foot forward, take a step back, and walk this way like Aerosmith suggests? After experimenting with Cialis as a powerful diuretic, I’ve discovered it now burns when I pee and I routinely have erections lasting longer than four hours (which is obviously weird, since ya' know, I don’t have a penis). Like at all.
Hey, I think I’m ready to watch my first episode of LOST. Anything I should know?
Kristin
Song of the Day:
Supergrass, “Diamond Hoo Ha Man”
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The following handwritten letter was found crumpled on the steps of McKinley Hall after a passionate rally for diabetic cats:
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1 comment:
On behalf of all diabetic cats, I am appalled at this insensitive usage of a true problem in the US. Not everyone is turned off by cats that don't know when to stop eating, or don't care if they pee at 10 times the rate of normal functioning useless cats, or cause their owner to secretly wish they could stick that syringe full of insulin directly through their eye into their brain. Wait, I forgot my original point.
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