The very early Monday Thirteen from Cancun.
1. It is VERY WEIRD here.
2. I'm beginning to gain an appreciation of the subtle imagery of some of the RnB that doesn't make it onto Radio2.
3. Dooff. Dooff. Dooff. Dooff. Dooff.
4. How many words can possibly rhyme with arse? Sorry. Ass.
5. Grass. Mass. Blast. Fast. Chast?
6. See 1.
7. Diving is muy bien.
8. There are very tiny ants crawling all over my laptop. Yep.
9. Blogger speaks Spanish now.
10. Fishizzle. I think.
11. Toga.
12. Toga.
13. Toga.
4 comments:
Gas. Pass. Mass. Sass. Lass. Glass. Crass. Bass.
Aren't you glad you have such a helpful commenter handy?
I am having trouble adjusting from the frosty eastern post-communist winter of Prague to beer-keg swilling frat boys called things like 'Bud' or 'Chip' on the beach in Cancun.
I think I need a photograph, please, as proof, or as something to combat my Reverse Peril Seasonal Affective Disorder.
But! Enjoy that diving!
Apropos of absolutely nothing: I just want you to know that I attempted to add your feed to Livejournal so I could get my Peril piping-hot off my Friends page, and you already have a Livejournal account so I couldn't use "evilauntieperil" as the username. I instead settled for "evilauntperil."
Sniff.
rpc, for proof, please see next post. Actual pics of yrs truly, larging it subaqua styleee also available. Sadly, I never got a photo of the Chet, Brad, Bud & co. But we did learn the Texas A&M "Fight Song" in self-defence.
Candy, thank you for the rhymes, and how cool that you opted for the piping hot version. sorry 'bout the account thing - I was doing some stuff for a friend and ended up creating an LJ account, but I've never used it, since I'm too lazy. So you'll just have to suffer a truncated username. Ha.
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