Best Pick-Up Line. Worst Lyrics. Ever.

i'd like to check you for ticks....



everytime you take a sip
in this smoky atmosphere
you press that bottle to your lips
and i wish i was your beer

and in the small there of your back
your jeans are playing peek a boo
id like to see the other half
of your butterfly tattoo

hey that gives me an idea
lets get out of this bar
and drive out into the country
and find a place to park


cause id like to see you out in the moonlight
id like to kiss you way back in the sticks
id like to walk you through a field of wildflowers
and id like to check you for ticks

i know the perfect little path
out in these woods i used to hunt
dont worry babe ive got your back
and ive also got your front
id hate to waste a night like this
ill keep you safe you wait and see
the only thing allowed to crawl all over you
when we get there is me

you know every guy in here tonight
would like to take you home
but ive got way more class than them
and that aint what i want

cause id like to see you out in the moonlight
id like to kiss you way back in the sticks
id like to walk you through a field of wildflowers
and id like to check you for ticks

oooh you never know where one might be
and oooh theres lots of places that are hard to reach

id like to see you out in the moonlight
id like to kiss you way back in the sticks
id like to walk you through a field of wildflowers
and id like to check you for ticks

oh id sure like to check you for ticks





I think you missed a spot...












(Lyrics by Brad Paisley)
(Post by Portia)

When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces...

For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
“Atalanta in Calydon” Algernon Charles Swinburne

Color me ready.
And skeptical amused.

Bring it on. Both.
(Portia)

Bravo, Mr. Cavett*

“Your life isn’t given,” I remember him saying, “it’s brutally ripped away from you. You’re no good to your buddies dead, and when the bullets start pouring in you don’t give a goddamn about God, country, Yale, your loved ones, the last full measure of devotion or any other of that Legionnaire patriotic crapola. You just want you and your buddies to see at least one more sunrise.”

A worthwhile read, if for no other reason than Mr. Cavett's nearly perfect writing.

____________________________
*Please note that this post reflects the author's views, and not necessarily those of Management. Respectfully, Portia