Mitchieville: Memories, From The Corner Of My Eyes

Considering I promised that I was going to put up some oldie but goodie posts from time past in honour of Mitchieville's third Anniversary, I have failed miserably. I've been really busy lately, working with the homeless, taking a three day trip, designing inexpensive clothing for naked third world children. I've hardly had time to kick the cat. Not to say I haven't, it's really just an expression. Fucking cat.

Anyway, enough about me, what about you? How the hell have you been? I've missed the hell out of you. I miss the way you do that thing with your forefinger and second from left toe on the left side of your right foot. Damn, you really know how to make me laugh. Like the time you got arrested for pulling out your you-know-what and putting it in your neighbours mailbox. Man, you da shit, dog.

Getting back to some serious bullogging, here's a post that always makes me wet my thongs. It's entitled, "All I can think about is her".

Sunday, July 10, 2005

All I can think about is her

As most of my wonderful and caring readership knows, I have developed a crush on a certain pretty, and I just can't seem to get her out of my mind. It's all encompassing, all I can think about is her.

Last night was a perfect example, I went camping with my legitimate children, and a friend who decided to come along for the ride. I should have been concentrating on my legitimates, but instead all I could think about was this precious beauty.

I'll give you a few examples of the times I was thinking about this incredible, luscious treat.

I was pumping up my air mattress, pumping up and down, up and down, harder and harder until the sweat poured down my face, I was pumping so hard and so fast that I nearly collapsed, and yet all I could think of was her.

I was sitting next to the campfire scratching my groin with a shoehorn, and all I could think of was her.

I stuck a wiener on a stick and stuck it over the fire, I watched the wiener get red, redder, and plump, getting bigger and ready to bust, and all I could think of was her.

I was watching the girl that came along for the ride drink a glass of milk. She put the glass to her lips, took a sip and a little bit spilled down her chin. I watched the creamy milk drip down her chin, and looked in amazement as she lapped it off with her enormous tongue, but all I could think of was the girl who I have a crush on.

I was piercing my nipples with a the sharp end of an unraveled coat hanger, but all I could think about was piercing her nipples with the sharp end of an unraveled coat hanger.

I chased down a squirrel that stole a bag of Dorito's from our picnic table, and while I was stomping on its head with my boot, I found that my heart wasn't into it, all I could think about was her.

As I plugged in my flying V guitar into the amplifier, next to the tent, and as I wailed away playing Santana, all I could think about was how I would rather wail away on her.

When the Park Ranger came by our campsite at 4:30 A.M. to tell me to turn the music down, I spat in his face, but I was thinking in my mind that I'd rather spit in her face.