Seen, recently, on a sign carried outside a church in Denver: "Gesus loves you."
Overheard, a guy I know: "If you don't like me and my vernacular, you can suck my cock."
Self-defined, by me: "I'm not a high-strung person. I'm not. What's your definition of high-strung? (pause) Well, my definition of high-strung..." at which point I was cut off by gales of laughter and a gentle reminder that I'd just answered the question.
Cruelty of the universe: my day-of-moving-fantastico, derailed by one of those freak April ice storms we know and love on the Front Range. And the gentleman who kept me warm and cozy company for the morning, recipient of the World's Best Snuggler award, still out in it, saving the world one idiot at a time.
And tonight's dagger through the heart: My baby turns four tomorrow. Four. Years. Old. But he'll always be my baby. I love you, SugarBoy.
Overheard, a guy I know: "If you don't like me and my vernacular, you can suck my cock."
Self-defined, by me: "I'm not a high-strung person. I'm not. What's your definition of high-strung? (pause) Well, my definition of high-strung..." at which point I was cut off by gales of laughter and a gentle reminder that I'd just answered the question.
Cruelty of the universe: my day-of-moving-fantastico, derailed by one of those freak April ice storms we know and love on the Front Range. And the gentleman who kept me warm and cozy company for the morning, recipient of the World's Best Snuggler award, still out in it, saving the world one idiot at a time.
And tonight's dagger through the heart: My baby turns four tomorrow. Four. Years. Old. But he'll always be my baby. I love you, SugarBoy.