So I bent over to avoid the thorns on the rooster rose tree and picked up the poop with the claws of civility. However on the walk back to the trashcan, I inadvertently squeezed the handle and the turds dropped into the pool. Hastily I grabbed the leaf net before it was seen, thereby Xnaying the option to drain the 10k gallons. While taking the successful scoop to the can my neighbor across the way remarked that I looked like a gondolier. Horse's ass.

When the 110s are here, don't waste time moaning or peeling your dermis with a weed puller. It's the Truculent '20s, man. You're a snooze-maker if you rant, pre-burial if you moan and very banderas-acting if you go all humpy-hump. Here's where I go:
It's cool in here, that 'cuzz is anxiously awaiting your 1st in almost 2 years and your dreamgirl still wants to do life with you - - - so what's the question?? Please don't talk about me when I'm gone dead expired smiling about the way things are going. It's not a delusion, it's not make-believe, it's living at The Pack. getting so-o close