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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2002-12-28 | 11:07 p.m. Aaah, and now we come to the real meaning behind my diaryland handle: You see, people have favorites. We do. We love our favorite show, song, shirt, food. We love pie and cake, too. All of us do, it's pretty much universal. Not all of us beat our bedmates up, tho. But, If you Ever Hit me EVER .... I would have the perfect way to even up the score. I can cook. It's not something I brag about, but my ex will testify to my ability to prepare a delicious, restaurant-quality meal, from the suculent pork roast of a lifetime right down to the most FUDGIE, MOIST, flavorful chocolate cake... Don't like chocolate? I can make a peach pie with delicate, tastey crust that will drive you absolutely mad. Breads? OOooh, don't even make me tempt you with my homemade french breads or incredible biscuits. And so, you see I will feed you. Keep feeding you until you are so full that you fall into a nice, deep, satisfying sleep. It will be the last sleep you ever know, because my friend you won't be able to stay awake after such a heavy meal, and you will doze, and my two big, healthy sons will come over and I will have them help me suffocate you.... all three of us will stand directly on top of the pillows covering your face, I promise. Once I've had a chance to get my stethescope and check for an absence of an apical rate or blood pressure, I'll get a straw and spray some juice from the roast into your lungs, and I will then open your mouth and shove a huge hunk of that delectable roast pork down your lousey throat. We'll all drag your body onto the bed and make it look like you bought it Mamma Cass-style. The end. Of you. Forever. Na, just kidding. Speaking of kids, you should maybe be cautious on hunting trips with the boys after you raise your hand to me, shouldn't you? I might forgive you, but there's no guarantee's they'll forget. The next door neighbor boy heard his Mommy getting beat up 2 days after Christmas this year. He won't forget. I certainly hope he does't. If he's lucky, the people who care about him will remind him, year after year, that beating your woman up is evil. It shouldn't be tolerated. Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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