Friday, December 30, 2011

'11 in Tens

“Is graduation ten letters because I want to make out?”

I live in a complex amidst one HEIRESS license plate.

Some veggie burgers are noticeably greener than others’ fart hallelujahs.

The ranch is not a condiment but Dent May’s flavor.

Spare washers, dryers do not count as cuddles or spouses.

I can climb inside a dumpster swearing WE A FARM.

Sweet potatoes act as babies when they are your stomach.

She says Marlboro after I sound it out for her.

The square is a skank away from a juice bar.

When you think of somewhere else, know you will soon.

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