Dearest Diary,
Your ruffles do always comfort me so, as do your firm -yet supple- pages. After last weeks bout of possible skullduggery, I have been flying "incognito" as they say. TTND 1 and 2 have been giving me such trouble. I am wracking my nubile little brain trying to arrive at some definitive answer, but to no avail. But, fear not! I have a plan...
I have heard tales of these magical pleasure machines called "kissing booths" set up for a non-committal exchange of the smoochies. The Annual Gainesville Homecoming/Paternity-Fest is fast approaching, and guess who has registered to man the aforementioned booth? Hmmm?! MEE!
I shall determine, by way of my impeccable recall of sensual memory, which of the two redheaded rapscallions gave me my first chocofly kiss. I have been going through chapstick like Unca Macbeth goes through Meow mix in an effort to give the two old boys a head start and keep the ladies happy.
I must now go about making sure all parties will be in attendance, I wonder if father would follow through with his threat of live burial if I use his printing press again? For love...I'll risk it; who knows? Maybe my matronly morsel might stop by and solve my dilemma once and for all :)
In anticipation of snogging,
Y.B.P.M.
Showing posts with label TTND. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TTND. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The...kiss
Diary...
Slightly less S.U.t.W. As I write this, you might notice my youthful exuberance has diminished. I believe I have finally become a man. That's right diary, the deed was done. I collected enough specimens to make an acceptable present to the fair Gilmer. I gave her the box of chocolates, filled with a plethora of richly colored butterflies. She devoured them with a lusty glee, covering her face with bits of wing and nougat. Halfway through the thorax of a particularly succulent monarch she stopped and smiled. She stood up, wiped most of the remainder from her mouth...then and then...asdf980uhjirorgiok.grreh m,jkegjlkgsdljk;vcxkhdgzviogsd
OH! Diary, I should know better than try to write an entry right before 2:00. Where was I, let me read and...Oh, yes...Diary, um, so...I was about to divulge the juicy details of my newfound "experience" in the ways of love. I must confess to dipping into the exotic trail mix to ease my nervousness, but the churning of my stomach told me that butterflies and snickers do not make good stomach fodder. I gulped as she stared into my eyes with a look that I can only assume was desire. She blurted out "You Burfflyes and Chocate!?" before I could respond, she pressed her decidedly non-chappy lips against my own! Her sweet, soft, tender pillows of pleasure worked their way all across my face! She made these odd slurping sounds that, I must admit frightened me a bit, but I braved the terror and enjoyed the ride of my young, bonny life! Eventually, she stopped, pushed me to the ground, and proclaimed "AWLL KWEEN!" and scampered off, her red pigtails bouncing to the throbbing of my thrice beating heart!
Diary, her voracity was so thorough, all the butterfly and chocolate I had foolishly forgotten to clean off my face was gone! What a woman! Clearly she will remember me as she slimes her way into a cocoon (and my heart) and emerges as a mighty demigoddess! I shall be her man-queen (What would one call the male lover of a demigoddess?)! Maybe she'll share the secret and I shall become a god as well. I hope I get wings.
In post-make-out-glow,
Y.B.P.M the Smooched
Slightly less S.U.t.W. As I write this, you might notice my youthful exuberance has diminished. I believe I have finally become a man. That's right diary, the deed was done. I collected enough specimens to make an acceptable present to the fair Gilmer. I gave her the box of chocolates, filled with a plethora of richly colored butterflies. She devoured them with a lusty glee, covering her face with bits of wing and nougat. Halfway through the thorax of a particularly succulent monarch she stopped and smiled. She stood up, wiped most of the remainder from her mouth...then and then...asdf980uhjirorgiok.grreh m,jkegjlkgsdljk;vcxkhdgzviogsd
OH! Diary, I should know better than try to write an entry right before 2:00. Where was I, let me read and...Oh, yes...Diary, um, so...I was about to divulge the juicy details of my newfound "experience" in the ways of love. I must confess to dipping into the exotic trail mix to ease my nervousness, but the churning of my stomach told me that butterflies and snickers do not make good stomach fodder. I gulped as she stared into my eyes with a look that I can only assume was desire. She blurted out "You Burfflyes and Chocate!?" before I could respond, she pressed her decidedly non-chappy lips against my own! Her sweet, soft, tender pillows of pleasure worked their way all across my face! She made these odd slurping sounds that, I must admit frightened me a bit, but I braved the terror and enjoyed the ride of my young, bonny life! Eventually, she stopped, pushed me to the ground, and proclaimed "AWLL KWEEN!" and scampered off, her red pigtails bouncing to the throbbing of my thrice beating heart!
Diary, her voracity was so thorough, all the butterfly and chocolate I had foolishly forgotten to clean off my face was gone! What a woman! Clearly she will remember me as she slimes her way into a cocoon (and my heart) and emerges as a mighty demigoddess! I shall be her man-queen (What would one call the male lover of a demigoddess?)! Maybe she'll share the secret and I shall become a god as well. I hope I get wings.
In post-make-out-glow,
Y.B.P.M the Smooched
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sunshine Dust
Diary,
S.U.t.W, but let's skip with the pleasentries, I think Gilmer might be a goddess; possibly a demigoddess. My delicious TTND has a healthy appetite for the luscious lepidoptera, so I took it upon myself to gather several specimens and daintily display them in a tin of chocolates. As grotesque a spectacle as it might seem, I did so only because the sight of her munching on the winged creatures in a chipmunkish fashion filled me with such feelings...lets just say that the catalytic converter was not catching all the pollutants, if you know what I mean! Teehee.
As I was collecting the specimens, I noticed that the poor delictables were losing a powdery substance on my fingers. I was shocked and let this antennaed aliment go free, but it was unable to flap its way to safety.
Diary, I believe my ginger princess might have method to her madness. These butterflies (which is a complete misnomer by the way...CrunchyDirtFlies would be much more applicable...I mean...I didn't...what? I didn't say anything.) seem to have the transformative powers of a god. Once those horrid grub-fingers slime and ooze their way into that rancid sack, they emerge weeks later as a magnificent, beautiful flower... I don't think my obligatory metaphor was required in this case...Anyway, I believe my carrot-top-carbuncle is trying to transcend to the next plane of existence by consuming the "sunshine dust" of these winged insects.
Surely she must be a goddess, how else could her strange behavior be explained!? As spunkily delicious as she is now, imagine the wonder that would be the post-cocoon Gilmer (assuming the transition from human to god requires a cocoon)! I have continued to collect many more glorious proboscised pabulum for my ravenous red-head. Oh, diary how she will thank me! She will swoon, or possibly totter and fall like a newborn babe, and glubber some generous thank you, followed by a...dare I hope...large, sloppy kiss!? oooh! GLEE!
Diary, I must go and continue the search for more of the magic bugs...bugs, so callous a word for such a magnificent ticket to sweet, sweet loving.
In breathless anticipation,
Y.B.P.M.
S.U.t.W, but let's skip with the pleasentries, I think Gilmer might be a goddess; possibly a demigoddess. My delicious TTND has a healthy appetite for the luscious lepidoptera, so I took it upon myself to gather several specimens and daintily display them in a tin of chocolates. As grotesque a spectacle as it might seem, I did so only because the sight of her munching on the winged creatures in a chipmunkish fashion filled me with such feelings...lets just say that the catalytic converter was not catching all the pollutants, if you know what I mean! Teehee.
As I was collecting the specimens, I noticed that the poor delictables were losing a powdery substance on my fingers. I was shocked and let this antennaed aliment go free, but it was unable to flap its way to safety.
Diary, I believe my ginger princess might have method to her madness. These butterflies (which is a complete misnomer by the way...CrunchyDirtFlies would be much more applicable...I mean...I didn't...what? I didn't say anything.) seem to have the transformative powers of a god. Once those horrid grub-fingers slime and ooze their way into that rancid sack, they emerge weeks later as a magnificent, beautiful flower... I don't think my obligatory metaphor was required in this case...Anyway, I believe my carrot-top-carbuncle is trying to transcend to the next plane of existence by consuming the "sunshine dust" of these winged insects.
Surely she must be a goddess, how else could her strange behavior be explained!? As spunkily delicious as she is now, imagine the wonder that would be the post-cocoon Gilmer (assuming the transition from human to god requires a cocoon)! I have continued to collect many more glorious proboscised pabulum for my ravenous red-head. Oh, diary how she will thank me! She will swoon, or possibly totter and fall like a newborn babe, and glubber some generous thank you, followed by a...dare I hope...large, sloppy kiss!? oooh! GLEE!
Diary, I must go and continue the search for more of the magic bugs...bugs, so callous a word for such a magnificent ticket to sweet, sweet loving.
In breathless anticipation,
Y.B.P.M.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Unca Macbeth...cat person?
Dear Diary,
I went outside for my 2 p.m. fit yesterday. I must admit that it was for purely selfish reasons. True, it is an embarrassment to collapse into a puddle of my own tears and awkwardly try to catalogue them whilst my hands involuntarily spasm, BUT what could be more pitiful? If my sultry "Touched Tomboy Next Door" (TTND from here on out...you know...for secrets) were to come upon me in a tizzy, surely she would try to comfort me, right?
Anyway, as I was removing rocks, pointy sticks, and bits of broken bottles of the Slavic giggle water," I noticed Unca Macbeth out in the ol' sandlot. I didn't know Unca Macbeth was such an avid practitioner of athletics! He had set up the ol' sandlot for a game of t-ball. Surely, he wanted me to join the festivities! I was beginning to walk over when two p.m. hit and I began to have my fit. When I awoke, Unca Macbeth's game was already taking place. Feeling a little bruised that Gilmer was not around and also that my fit went unobserved (why have them then if no one is there to observe I ask!), I gathered myself and walked over to the field.
Before I turned the corner I heard Unca Macbeth shout "Gorammit Mittens! Stop playing with the ball! Mr. JuJu is gong to score! Oh, no! Leave the field, just leave. Where's your head!? Dr. Fluffy McPantaloons, fill in for Mittens!" I couldn't believe my eyes! Unca Macbeth had trained his many cats to play T-ball. I have heard of horse whisperers, but never have I heard of cat-whisperers.
I was going to ask Unca if I too might learn his most incredible gift (imagine what wooing wonders I could perform with a trained kitty!), but before I could, Mittens-who had had quite enough of Unca's smart talk-began to bite at his ankles. Well, needless to say that emptied both dugouts and an all out brawl began to ensue. My gentle stomach couldn't handle such violence, so I ran back to the house.
I must get unca Macbeth to teach me the secret to Cat-Whispering. With an army of adorable pussycats at my control, I can win the heart of...well, I probably better make up my mind first.
Yours,
Y.B.P.M.
I went outside for my 2 p.m. fit yesterday. I must admit that it was for purely selfish reasons. True, it is an embarrassment to collapse into a puddle of my own tears and awkwardly try to catalogue them whilst my hands involuntarily spasm, BUT what could be more pitiful? If my sultry "Touched Tomboy Next Door" (TTND from here on out...you know...for secrets) were to come upon me in a tizzy, surely she would try to comfort me, right?
Anyway, as I was removing rocks, pointy sticks, and bits of broken bottles of the Slavic giggle water," I noticed Unca Macbeth out in the ol' sandlot. I didn't know Unca Macbeth was such an avid practitioner of athletics! He had set up the ol' sandlot for a game of t-ball. Surely, he wanted me to join the festivities! I was beginning to walk over when two p.m. hit and I began to have my fit. When I awoke, Unca Macbeth's game was already taking place. Feeling a little bruised that Gilmer was not around and also that my fit went unobserved (why have them then if no one is there to observe I ask!), I gathered myself and walked over to the field.
Before I turned the corner I heard Unca Macbeth shout "Gorammit Mittens! Stop playing with the ball! Mr. JuJu is gong to score! Oh, no! Leave the field, just leave. Where's your head!? Dr. Fluffy McPantaloons, fill in for Mittens!" I couldn't believe my eyes! Unca Macbeth had trained his many cats to play T-ball. I have heard of horse whisperers, but never have I heard of cat-whisperers.
I was going to ask Unca if I too might learn his most incredible gift (imagine what wooing wonders I could perform with a trained kitty!), but before I could, Mittens-who had had quite enough of Unca's smart talk-began to bite at his ankles. Well, needless to say that emptied both dugouts and an all out brawl began to ensue. My gentle stomach couldn't handle such violence, so I ran back to the house.
I must get unca Macbeth to teach me the secret to Cat-Whispering. With an army of adorable pussycats at my control, I can win the heart of...well, I probably better make up my mind first.
Yours,
Y.B.P.M.
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