Can whisper tales of gore,
Of how we calmed the tides of war.
We are your overlords.
Look around you, outside, what do you see? Skimpy outfits on the swine waiting in line to see Sex & the City? Quarts of sweat dripping off the fat guy's moobs, collecting like strings of pearls on the short curly ones rimming his aureaolae? Kids running and jumping through the sprinkler on your lawn, screaming with the sting of rock salt from your 20 guage?
June 5th and it was freakin' snowing here, I even had a fire going, this morning. It's a good thing we're heading to Santa Fe, to the land of the tiny-feathered silver earring on the blue-bobbed saggy tit. Sssshhhh.... she's wetting her bill with a bit of mohito and seeking to mate with the broad-shouldered personal trainer (after having passed on the talentless artist).
We're going to see X at the brewery and then coming back here to embark on our journey to the emerald city... or isle... I can't remember which.
While we're in Santa Fe, your invitation is here:
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