dr. pepperit's true. i can't stand the stuff.
i'm a pibb girl (but only with popcorn at the movies).
the mr. will see you now.
(i don't know what that means.)
i have not the intestinal fortitude to eat an oyster. i cannot eat something that looks like the production of a really bad chest cold?
you're not fooling anybody.
i mean truly, have you ever been more lacerated in your whole adult life? they're the reason band-aids have such a following.
i don't care what they promise you.
don't believe the lies.
aww, doesn't that look like fun?
it looks like puke.
i know. that one's a surprise.
it's not so much that i hate the beach. i don't hate it.
i just infinitely prefer a stream in the mountains, a good hike to a waterfall, woodland creatures. the beach has no hedgehogs. no chipmunks. no cute little red and white mushroom caps... not enough pleasantries to recommend itself to me.
i would never see this on the beach:
and so the forest has my heart.
i love them in theory but i dislike not being able to stop because of the rush to get there and then the rush to get home. see my letters whizzing by? like my car, speeding past so many missed picture opportunities! i understand that we can't stop for every one (i hate it but i understand) or else we'd need an extra week to get home, and who has the time?, and this is precisely what i dislike about road trips. there's not enough time to document them. it's such a rush you don't have time to suck the marrow out of them.
in heaven though, i'm gonna love road trips!
and that is all she wrote!
happy sunday, folks!