Monday, May 16, 2005


On what is meant to be a lazy, relaxed Sunday I'll put on the only clean shirt I own which happens to be a shirt that is entirely too small for me and belongs at a Baby Gap sale for preemies and at brunch I will huff and puff and complain after eating one morsel of granola at how fat I am and how I am bursting at the seams - literally a button flying off from one mere breath - when really any normal human being wearing this sized shirt on this body would die instantaneously from constricted breathing and as I reach for a sip of water and feel the shirt dig sharply into my flesh I consider the fact that I may go down in history as the only woman to amputate her own arms by the mere vice grip style shirt I've chosen to wear to brunch on a Sunday and then you sum it up perfectly reminding me exactly why I love you,

"Honey...I love you but that shirt sucks."


At 9:55 AM, Blogger FuntimeBen said...

Eliot's one smooth dude!

At 1:59 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Not as smooth as your avatar sir!

At 7:40 AM, Blogger Jay said...

I think it's not only nice to date you, but it must be nice to date whoever it is your dating. If your boyfriend can see that the shirt and whatever else is causing you misery, then that's a good connection you two have.


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