Frankly, I found it quite ispiring. I think I'll write my own poem right here in your comments.
Oh Bob, I love you, Your underwear on the floor Bugs me no more You fart in the bed But our love is not dead It only grows Like the nails on your toes Though your hair may be gray I'll never stray The Mets may suck but there's noone else I'd rather hug You've yet to master the toilet paper holder Yet my love noone can smolder For you alone can make me happy. Like my poem? It's kinda sappy. But this is for you, my darling Bob. Schlamile. Schlamzle. Hossenfeffercorporated.
7 comments:
*runs away screaming*
I found it by clicking on the "Next Blog" button at the top right. I don't think I'll ever do that again.
Hey, maybe KJ can see if there's some kind of covenant that lets you control your Blogger-neighbor.
I found it by clicking on "Next Blog"
Likely story.
Frankly, I found it quite ispiring. I think I'll write my own poem right here in your comments.
Oh Bob,
I love you,
Your underwear on the floor
Bugs me no more
You fart in the bed
But our love is not dead
It only grows
Like the nails on your toes
Though your hair may be gray
I'll never stray
The Mets may suck
but there's noone else I'd rather hug
You've yet to master the toilet paper holder
Yet my love noone can smolder
For you alone can make me happy.
Like my poem? It's kinda sappy.
But this is for you, my darling Bob.
Schlamile. Schlamzle. Hossenfeffercorporated.
I am touched, Pooke.
But then, you already knew that.
Children are needing counseling after such an expose. I suppose this means I will have to activate NetNanny.
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