When I die, I want this played at my funeral: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Different.
The cute, short-haired girl behind the table at my local farmer’s market shot me a quizzical look as I perused her samples. She pointed at my shirt and sheepishly asked, “What does that mean? Lie-ko-what?” Lycopersicum esculentum. “Huh? What’s that?” It’s the, um, scientific name for the tomato. “Oh,” she said. “That’s cool. Where did [...]
nb: this post probably won’t make sense in your rss reader. better to read the original. trust me. We were stretched out on her couch, her head on my shoulder, and I was awash in the bliss of feeling close, not just physically so, but in the sense that what I had wanted and hoped [...]
“Your hands are always so warm,” she says. He’s never quite sure what to make of it or what to say whenever she brings it up. Maybe something snarky or witty, he thinks—no, that would kill the mood and turn her off. Maybe something disarmingly charming, though it is always difficult when put on the [...]
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