April 19, 2004

Sandbox Lamentations: Introduction

Somewhere in my childhood self, an effusive diarist lurked.
I’m certain of it.
Had I mastery enough of my little hands to wield skinny sticks with lead or ink inside, my early years would be in paperback by now.
No, I’m sure I’d have been no Anne Frank, but she had that whole Holocaust thing going for her.
Um. That may have been in incredibly poor taste. Handbasket to hell? One ticket, please.


14 thoughts on “Sandbox Lamentations: Introduction

  1. Oh god, I feel some fishnets coming on.
    Not personally, you understand, just the sight of them.

  2. “I feel some fishnets coming on.” sounds like you’re trapped in a drive-by Tranny make-over.
    “Quick, get the lipstick on him and give him a close shave! Hurry, before the rozzers show up!”

  3. It’s a tough neighbourhood here – drive-by trannie makeovers occur so often that it doesn’t make the papers any more.

  4. ..and to make it worse I’m not sure I can lay my hands on a polka dot bat. Pink or blue are this season’s colours I’m afraid.

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