Corona Tangle
Charcoal Brickets Light up
Fuck your eyebrows, bitch
Weeds suck. In the spring and summer, if you do not beat them back regularly with bad taste and foul language, soon your house will be over taken, and you are left screaming like a little bitch in the closet hoping your mom shows up. I don’t WANT to live in the Shire. Nope. My feet are WAY too cute for that nonsense.
There are instances where I think myself into believing I have done something I have not really done. This happens more than I will admit to. Ever.
When no lighter or match can be found, one must choose: Ghetto or Hag. Ghetto lights off the stove/toaster/waffle iron/grill/blow torch. Hag lights one cigarette right after the other, kind of like the Olympic torch – the fire shall never go out.
Metal Fire God
Tripping the grill fantastic
Blackened lines of love
So strong is my desire to clean the pool, I am salivating chlorine.
The patio must be prepared. The umbrella raised. The tiki torches lit. Steak... you are mine for the marinating.
It is time.
No comments:
Post a Comment