Wednesday, May 5, 2010

m. piedlourde met ses pantalons

This morning I went to my dad's work to steal more cardboard out of his dumpster, but he was gone, and I felt stupid about dumpster-diving without him there to lend it an air of gentility, so instead I went to the silage pit on my grandpa's farm and stole five big rocks to edge my flower beds. The grass has started invading the front bed real real bad, and it looks pretty trashy. That's what the cardboard is for--to kill the grass and to make us look more trashy. Win-win!

I'm going to plant another tree in the front yard, so the flowering cherry isn't so much "Gah! I'm the lone bear in the woods!" I like mountain ashes, but there's already a huge Pyracantha next to the house, and I like orange berries just as much as the next guy, but you have to draw the line somewhere.

Once when I was twelve I went to a church dance and danced with this guy who was the biggest nerd ever, even bigger than me, but I didn't realize it yet. I went home and wrote about it in my pink journal I had gotten for free from the Maturation clinic they make you go to, and what I wrote was this: "I danced with [redacted] tonight, and I think I am falling for him in a big way." WHO TALKS LIKE THAT? Long story short, I didn't marry him.

I heard someone saying that you can't describe what a turnip tastes like. I'll have a go: like a radish married a fart. Kidding! Love ya, turnips!


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