Nov. 22nd, 2003

cheekbones3: (Default)
I shouldn't watch romantic films. I get all romantic, melancholy due to a lack thereof, and put on copious amounts of a Frankie Goes to Hollywood song. Well I played it once, and I've lost my remote control to play it again. I dream, I wonder, I tell myself no. Again. Fate will put me where I'm meant to be, with whomever, at some point in the next few decades one hopes. I hope some of you are there with me too.
cheekbones3: (Default)
So the fatties went and beat Australia in the kick-and-clap tourney. And then GB went and lost again, so we lose The Ashes 3-0! What a pathetic day's sport. Pah. Sometimes, it would be easier to not be English, so that people could understand why I have such a gripe with the RFU, and by proxy, the England rugby union team.
cheekbones3: (Default)
Dear Santa,

I have been a good Yes.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Dave's Christmas party. It was Dee who spiked the punch with too much Water. I can't help it if I drank five thousand, four hundred and twenty seven glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like Scent.

I thought it was funny when I put Big Dick's Scarf on my head and danced the Yes on the Soft and comfortable while singing `Nazi Punks Fuck Off'. I didn't mean to break Dave's Car and don't know why Dave would sue me for Trespass.

I don't remember calling Steve's wife a puffy rabbit---even though she looked like one with aquamarine tinged with purple eye shadow and yellow with pink mr. blobby-esque spots lipstick!

And when I threw up on Vicki's husband's shoulder blade, it was only because I ate too much of that mushy peas with mint sauce.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my omnibus through my neighbor's upstairs. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbour to call me a buggered cat and have me arrested for drunk in charge!

So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all carpeted and brown. And I'm really not to blame for any of this flighty stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!

Sincerely and wistfully yours,
Ian (Really a nice Yes!)

P.S. It's only sixty-eight million, seven hundred and two thousand and four bucks!

Profile

cheekbones3: (Default)
cheekbones3

February 2016

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
1415161718 1920
21222324252627
2829     

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Feb. 10th, 2026 11:26 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios