The closest thing to perfect but the farthest thing from me

Is the answer in the question?

Drink and make merry

Saturday night. 2 hours of word play. I'm about ready to lose all ma senses and succumb to those talking eyes. But since there's still an ounce of sanity left in me, (a feat considering the lethal amount of martini flowing thru ma veins) I restrained.

By 2am, I had flushed three quarters of ma intellect down the toilet and had to drag ma sorry ass onto the dancefloor for fear that a minute more on the damn couch would result in unspeakable acts of PDA with a stranger.

Never mind that he possesses a butt as firm as a tree trunk and abs as flat as the sole of ma shoes. But I had trouble enunciating his name (after a gallon of cocktails, I had trouble pronouncing ma own name) and I didn't want to risk making a bigger fool of maself. (Earlier on I almost made him believe I was from NASA.)

Besides, ma mind kept drifting off to the phone conversation I had with the Absolute 12 hours before. He has finally decides to not relocate and stay rooted and not forget his errr... roots. And that decision came exactly a month after I made my decision to quit being a considering factor in his err... decisions.

There's too much to digest in one night.

Schmuck

5 ways to occupy the teasing void of a distant memory:

1. Kill ants

2. Lick dishes

3. Kiss self

4. Watch porn

5. Chew nails


There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?

Animal Planet

I have a thing for Koalas.





I wonder what they taste like.


I was tempted to say the same thing about babies.
But I joke. (Come slay me, Qiddas.)

And so it is.

I am fragmentary; patchwork of life's beautiful elements.

And then some.

Regrets. I've had a few.
But then again, too few to mention.

-F.S-

Handle me with care.