vim

so on the island of dominica, there is a little cafe on portsmouth beach called the purple turtle. you can sit there curling your toes in the still-warm sand, drinking piton beer with a plate of spicy mountain chicken legs and watch the caribbean sun go down. the beach is littered with forgotten shipwrecks from long lost years of west indian hurricanes, their silhouettes now...
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so dude...i SWEAR... i wasn't crying during Legally Blonde 2...it was my ALLERGIES!!!!!

anyhoo, after all this Afrin, Nasacort, and saline rinsing...will you still love me with a prosthetic, snap-on nose??

there are women who exude sex through their pores...a vapor trail...like heat off an arizona freeway...

anyways, i like those kind.

Dahlia Jean the jungle queen, lived deep in the heart of the Congo.
She danced with Monkeys all day long, and loved to play her bongo.
Her castle was a big ol' Baobab tree, that grew tons of little pink flowers,
Stretched out on her favorite baobab branch, she'd read jungle books for
hours.
She'd ride her pal Laura the Lyon, across the way to...
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A plate of Pau Picos de Espana and Ribafria goat cheeses...San Simon and a bit of Manchego also...a warm, fresh, crusty baguette...a bottle of 2002 Alexander Valley Sin Zin...my Meade 10" LX200GPS-SMT Schmidt-Cassegrain Telescope...and me, watching Venus, as if I could reach up and touch her....I love the sky this time of year.

astro-geek to some...astro-chic to others.

why is it that my morning oatmeal tastes so much better when licked from her quivering thighs?...


...what the fuck do you mean "that wasn't oatmeal?!?!"

First off, the whole wheat pizza dough i made last night didn't turn out...so i had to chuck it and make a fucking new one. Then, it took me like 15 minutes to find the key to the fucking wine cellar, and when i finally did, i was out of the fucking 93 Jordan cab...I swear those fucking chicks and MY red wine. Then, during...
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ok...so like...i can't be the ONLY one...who twists their pubes up into little dreadlocks and dances crazy naked around the house while blastin' Bob Marley & Pato Banton.....can i ??


ummm.....nevermind.

I met her on the Amur river, just outside of Khabarovsk, Siberia. I was 15. She was probobly 19 or 20, and stunningly beautiful, exuding this natural, rugged elegance that held me in pubescent awe. She took the knife from her belt, and slit open the belly of the 250lb fish. I'm still sure that it was her beauty and precision that took my breath...
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My poor little house, ghasping for air under that enormous, plastic, CDC tent, men in white suits and masks running in and out of her. Hoses, and ducts spilling out of her windows like organs. Several choppers circled overhead, their pilots, watching the chaos from above. They told me that the cats began dying on Sunday morning, shortly after I first began to notice my...
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