And the Billy Ray song was on.
Ponderings from the middle of the night when I can't fall back asleep:
If I could only have one person read me bedtime stories for the rest of my life it would have to be Garrison Keillor. Or Dick Van Dyke as a chimney sweeper. Or my little brother.
I'm going to invent a chair in which I can nurse/sleep. It will recline. I shall call it "recliner."
Are artichokes hunted and killed for just their hearts? So that they can be marinated and preserved in jars? I feel awful for all the leaves - delicious, meaty things. I'm going to join a tribe that eats nose to tail on the artichoke. The tribe must also be in possession of mayonnaise.
Pretty sure babies are easier than dogs.
Is there a study that shows that people who ever -for any period of time- lived in Vanagons ended up with hump backs?
"But don't tell my heart. My achy breaky heart. I just don't think it'd understand. And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, he might blow up and kill this man. Oooooooohhoooooo." THEE most profound lyrics to come out of 1992. Unless you can name better. Go:
1 comment:
A quick Google search revealed that 1992 was also the year of Jump Around, Baby Got Back, I'm Too Sexy, and 2 Legit 2 Quit. But lyrically speaking I'd have to give it to Pearl Jam for "Jeremy spuuurhhhkaaauuughn/ heernnnhh hraaaanghhh hrmeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyy"
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