silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.
The following is a tribute to my sons, the youngest of whom tonight hit 'replay' on the sick thing, causing the oldest to threaten a sympathy spew:
posted by for a different kind of girl @ 10:37 PM
silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.
SAH mom of two. No, wait. Why should that define me? Aside from that, I am bitingly sarcastic, a kickass friend, an endearing spouse, and as loyal as a prized dog.
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3 Comments:
The best classic poetry of old always involved vomit. Robert Frost was big on the word "upchuck."
Vomit poetry;
Junior Tool Men blowing chunks.
What's better than that?
ftn - I took several poetry classes in college, and well I recall the professor driving home that point. And being able to rhyme the word "spewing"? Perfection.
Des -
So little, she said
Until she woke up to find
Tool Man's turn had come
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