Delicous and cute, fun and with sweetness. Don't be cruel to me, have fluff and be sugar-tastic like cheese pastry or dog biscuits. When the people you love disappear and call you stupid what do you do? Eat sugary substances and get into bed. Reminisce about the old days when you were cuter, more appealing and attractive to the opposite sex. What I want to know is why do wrinkles and pot bellies equal the need to stay indoors? No fair. I am lackluster, lacking in desire to propel myself into public. I am ashamed of my denim shaggy outfits and porscine torso swells.
I will be ok, no worries. (Just in case). I am excited about the future and grilled meats, twirling neck swivels and pecans embedded in wheat-based doughy.
Il pleut. Mais je suis bonne nuit et avec le choux. This is what my throat looks like. My glands are swollen.
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36 comments:
Hi MM! I miss you. Are you home yet?
No I am coming home tomorrow. I am hairy.
I thought you had depilated. What gives?
I am fully full haired like Yeti. Yet I am just an MM, much weaker and less magical. I am studying for change.
Shhhhhhh.
Your throat looks really sore.
Love may have disappeared but you are in no way stupid. By the way, Mountain Men are always appealing to the opposite sex; they are natural caregivers and earthly bound to the basics of loving and goodness. Besides they can chop like nobody's business. It might be that the fear of self has shamed your swell image. Swelling is hot; the title of the post proves it. Don the shaggies and rock out with cabbage. Don cabbage if you must.
Oh my god, Mountain, your mouth is a wreck. There is just no way you can go down on me tonight. I will sleep in the carpark.
Beth you are so disgruntled. Have some Pez and shut your face.
I just ate so much dessert, I feel like giz. I am perpetrated and ache for downers.
I am bulging and have hates towards you. You are imbecilic but charming. Please remove your inner bandages and face the facts.
Hey Troll!!!!
Krixfort finally let me get on the computer, that a-hole. I am mad that I haven't been allowed to talk to anyone for awhile because I have missed you sooooooooo much. I've been playing parcheesi all by myself and it's no fun. :-(
I miss you! Talk to you soon!
GOBBY!! I found a new game. It's called hellhole. You will like it very much of course! We make up names and play roles. We prod each other with instruments. Fun. Then maybe I hope we can play HUNGRY HIPPOS! I love when we play that. I have been playing Simon to pass the time. I am not so good, but slowlyg improving.
I am having to take excretion measures. I am having to exclude people and execute them.
Wow drastic. Execution is certainly drastic sounding. Surely there is a less confrontational measure you might take.
oh Troll! That sounds like so much fun! I'll bet I will really really like hellhole! And of course Hungry Hippos is always good. Maybe we can play Ants in the Pants too. And Cootie.
I am not talking confrontation, I am talking sneak attack. I know it's wrong, but I want to do it anyway.
Cootie is one hellhole of a terrific game! How about we try dolls sometime. I still have my Pretty Cut n' Grow doll. We can give her an ugly haircut if we want to. I will look around for some other stuff too, we should have a marathon.
the sneak attack is a good thing. I use it all the time. sneak sneak SMACK!
Shhhh.
Sneak Attack is the best. I had a boyfriend who snuck me good. Didn't know he was coming; didn't know he came. It is better as an indoor game, because not everybody knows you are playing and police action kind of ruins the fun. Flimsy tear away dresses with floral prints work well, as do parachute pants from Target.
La di da, then BAM, BAM, BAM.
Hungry Hungry Hoboes is another fun game!
MM, my butler thinks you may be in need of a pork bath with friends and perhaps a little shopping. Who is the behemoth that likes you to disappear?? This is not acceptable and must be punished.
Good Blog.
behemoth no good, MM. Me not like. ugh. Yeti good. Shaggy good. Ungh. Grill meat goooooood.
I am finally home with a moment to myself. Ham Paw, I know of what you speak, the debris and phantom punishments of past ghost exhortations within yourself, even if no one else saw, i knew what I was and was ashamed. Too shy to speak. Fluttery with nervous hands and dartabout eyes. No one remembers MM except a loyal few. MM was a smear of grey in the back of the room, a solitary idea enacted without hands, eyes, or desire.
Then I voyaged further into the hinterlands to visit the cavernous house of small critters and sweetness and even there, with much calm and inertia and care, I was unsure, awkward within my hairy costume. What do I want and who am I are questions I persist in asking my ever-moving mind party. Do I want to care for small critters too? Are there units of smallness that might want to emerge forth from my salad-glands and require me in order to exist? A place to put my focus? Something outside myself and my antics?
I don't know. There are mirrors inside my head and distended public animations of past behaviors. I am unsure but glad to be home.
I have fleshy lands growing beneath my skin, mirroring the undergrowths beneath the concrete slabs. The underground mind-party is not one to fear. The swollen subcutaneous terrain is another matter. Inside is infirm, outside is firm.
I am liquid and clear, in a stone pool, salted lightly and tinctured with whitish cooked meat. It is good for you to enter me. I am a soothing balm and reward your damages with empty transient style calm so that when you go back to your point of emanation you will be less clotted.
pork bath wise.
salty-slurp!
The mischief was bubbling over like a shaken soda. I had no control or purpose, just lurking fathomable-un-ness. MM is nutso. There is point behind the porpoise of thigh an locationlessness, a state that may take decades to achieve.
Yes in terms of ending being nigh, this is good and don your target-based rape pants to exhume uncertainty and deliver wells of oneness excitement onto the skulls of unsuspecting lovers.
Suspect you are sexy-poignant. Please give more.
No one will give, if they pretend to they are liars. No one gives.
I have something for you.
I am looking for someone to sneak me, Mountain Man. Disarticulation is my bag. All in good fun, mind you, that's some serious shit. Trust is the key, and disposable apparel.
I am up so late. I feel martian, I cannot breathe and have the sniffles and the sneezes. I am distracted by this tingly feeling in my head. Allergic to fresh breezes and caloric intake. Hi Giver, I am here to take from you.
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