Friday, December 10, 2010

Tucking Fired

I am still dead tired and flying pie on hills. Um, plying high on pail pains.

Um, taking drugz for what kills me.

Laughing at the bushes while walking the doggy pup around the lock, looking for the mouse. Um, house. No, the home, my motorhome.

Where are those nice people in the smocks to direct me to the wasabi powder?

Pain fills are pun.

We had soup for chicken lunch. I had the stock and let the meat have the dog since I can only seat soft sush. Um, mush. Meat moth mush.

I'm cold or old, I forget switch, or which is witch.

Back to fed, once I'm bed. Blanket the unders for the covers.

Gosh, I'm tucking fired. Oops. French my pardon.

Later, alligators. Chomp chomp.

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