" YOUR SKINNY JEANS WILL SELF DESTRUCT IN 30 MIN. THIS MESSAGE WON'T. " [ezcol_1half] THIS, may come as a surprise to hear. Or not
[ezcol_2third] [/ezcol_2third] [ezcol_1third_end] SOFT, SWEET, AND ELEGANTLY FRAGRANT UPON the realization that the previous few posts have been excruciatingly long and possibly obnoxious, I feel like today is a good day
[ezcol_2third] [/ezcol_2third] [ezcol_1third_end] THE CAKE HAS VENTURED BEYOND CHEMISTRY, INTO THE REALM OF PHYSICS
[ezcol_1third] DOES IT SOUND LIKE A GOOD TIME TO FLUFF IT? I have been told multiple times, by a number of highly credible professionals other than real doctors, that I present troubling signs of minor depression. Do I? I sleep. I sleep for a staggering number of hours each day and struggle every morning day for reasons not to add a couple more. But I wonder, perhaps even argue if a real depressed individual would be emotionally capable of the kind of trust and intimacy I share with my dog-hair-embroidered blanket? I also distract myself from my wild discontent in life with the soothing and gentle comfort
"BOYS WILL BE BOYS?" What happens when you practice general lawlessness between a 6-pounds white prince who has, for his entire 14-years of life, consistently mistaken himself as a Magnificent Pit Bull, and a 26-pounds mutt boy who, constantly subjected to his ambiguous status in the house, has quietly developed some sort of combative inferiority-complex? Sibling rivalries? Boys will be boys? I don't think so
"I HAVE PROOF OF ITS ABSOLUTE TAKEOVER ON THIS SIDE OF THE PLANET
"There's New York. There's Montreal. THEN THERE'S THE REST OF THE BARREN WORLD WITHOUT THIS SMOKY PINK" (My subconscious eagerness to share this may have caused me to accidentally publish it before saying anything