Convinced am I that the following has already been said, written, or, at least, thought. I haven't heard it said, or seen it written, or sensed it thought, so I'll throw my frail dollops of pure, 100%, golden caution to the hounds, who, oddly enough, are being thrown about by the wind, and deliver this undoubtedly stale joke:
A way to a girl's heart is through her ribs.
Heard it before? Yes? Bugger. In my defense, I'll suggest that I thought of it independently of everyone else and thus deserve the praise bestowed on its creator. Unless of course I merely forgot I'd heard it and it slowly burrowed its way back into my conscious, furtively enough to avoid plagiaristic suspicion and think, for one small, precious moment, that it might have been mine.
Duck, Duck, Cockatiel
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The move is officially complete, though I'm still living with a few islands
of stuff—the main one located in what agents like to call the "meals area".
Rea...
7 years ago
1 comment:
All right, that's good enough for me.
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