zenexistence

Last nights polo was a ridiculous amalgamation of crashes, cocktails and chaos; three C's of which I'm intimately fond of and, coincidentally enough, familiar with.
I also like "Caterwaul" and "Cravat" but I can't figure out how to work them into the above sentence without sounding like a boob.

On the down side; I'm busted up. Sore. Lil' bloody. Lil' bruised. I'm thinking heffe veisens and good company will cure this.

With that said I shall now go continuously and cantankerously caterwaul with nothing but a creamcheese cravat on.