Oh yeah… by the way.
I’m in love with Mary-Jane.
Catherine and I stopped seeing each other weeks ago (Didn’t you get the memo?). I think she spoke about that on her blog, so let us not discuss it here. My opinion is of little importance, it would seem.
If there was a contest, which there isn’t, Mary-Jane would win. But there isn’t (although it would be cool if there were. It could be gladiatorial in nature with chained lions, and hordes of armed adversaries in a gauntlet of blood and death).
I’ll tell you why, briefly. Mary-Jane is everything I have ever looked for. She is so incredibly awesome. I want her to kick my ass. It would be welcomed and desired. I consider it a high privilege to simply wash her feet, let alone be kicked by them. My mind reels at the thought of her even looking at me. Yet she has brought me into her life, and I am the better for it. I cannot express the passion with which I would repay that most sublime of favours. She’s got my number, my ticket, my undivided attention, and her response is to blush! Pink and Red, like the spring rose. Nay, she is a lily, clear-cut effervescence, milky white with a centre of gold. See this poetical flimflam? She’s doing this to me! It’s utter gobbledygook! She’s my smock . smock smock smock. num num num… Oh, my darlin’ baby, Stay With Me!!!!!!!!!! Je t’aime mon chérie!
She held me in her arms and I was hooked! I’m in love with Mary-Jane.
No comments:
Post a Comment