More mustard! Stronger mustard!

The reddest plum I've ever seen...

That contrasting heel does something for me.

Fear of eating rubber bands.

No--if it's too loud, it's too loud.

See you in the Grogosphere!

(I'm a sucker for any -osphere.)

The Upskirt to End All Upskirts.

All my songs sound the same

I can't help it if my favorite shape is the creepazoid. 

Can you believe that one day this little thing will grow up to be a mighty pinecone? 

She wanted to be one of those Fountain Ladies--stand around nude and dramatically lit while stone frogs spit water at her. 

(I'd like to spend my weekend on her Jersey Shore.)

Boots on High

She was a wiz with those off-the-shoulder remarks.

Who's still shocked that neighborhoods change?

For a second we thought that was a real dog!

Losing environmental consciousness...

On the vast amateur soccer fields of Wisconsin--

We were like, Egregious or Bust!

(Almost anything "Or Bust!" would do.)

What angles

Still looking for an opportunity to say: I've had just about enough of your beer-battered bullshit!

Have we discussed the Thug-o-sphere?

(I'd like to rip him from today's headlines.)

It was impugned for its inferior drinkability.

Still enrolling students in my Fake Karate school.

(I'd like to mask his soaring ambition.)

The High Line has powerful friends, and brilliant gardeners. There's a breeze, and a girl pulls her skirt tight around her thighs. Is anyone here not taking pictures?

I once had a flower tie like that.

Ah, the great European sporting brands...

(I'd like to re-title her opus.)

(The kneeling was the best part.)

All the good MC names are taken

I can see why everyone thinks they love her.

It's either a construction worker convention on that rooftop, or workers are up there constructing something.

Think up questions now, ask questions later.

Didn't there used to be a TV here?

We know now to worry about straws.

How even their late stuff seems early.

A paper exclusively about the demise of papers.

(I'd like to Saint her Olaf.)

Cone-y

Our kite got tangled up in the old Parachute Drop.

We stopped and thought: people used to order Sno Cones at this window.

I'm a fan of her hair conditioning.

It's a thin tan line between right and wrong.

I like those guys

Cricket as a metaphor for Cricket.

Agrarian something or other.

By the power of thigh...

Closed kitchen store: Plutarch's Knives.

(How most dust was magic dust.)


We're still hoping for a toy boomerang that works.

Re Lapse

As the sunburn on her shoulder peeled,
So went my will.

Mojito without booze: Nojito.
Give it an order.

I still say apotheosis is a vocab word worth having.

We wrote all this poetry to music.
Then when it was quiet it didn't make any sense.