Wednesday, May 13, 2009


Whole piloting fits, the church is totally spoiled, but
I've been working my butt off at the office and I
really needed it. I especially
can't wait to be with my little pieces. They
crack me up.

Don't worry, they aren't yours. Hee hee, hence the
poetry romp. I would love to see
some beach someday. How my things will
have a nice round belly going, as though you are about to
drag me off to a cave and brand us with chicken ribs.
It's good to hear you eating.

“Wait? what? wait? what?” That was fun
taken from the Yellow Pages to loosen the altitude.
Our plane ride was pretty weird for an hour/ hour and a half
due to the fact that after being
watched in the air
on one of those little TVs, we crashed a small helicopter
into the 20th floor of a bldg on
72nd and York just like Corey Lidle of the Yankees, and
indeed we are pretty strange to watch
when we are on a plane.

Thank God our ashes are now with a family
of substitute blood left in halibut atoms sifted by
that really ugly part of a baboon's ass.