October 17th, 2002

primary butterflies

letters to my life

Dear Immune System,

Not to sound harsh, but how about getting with the program. My body's been invaded, and you're loafing off, eating bon-bons and reading Cosmo. I mean really, there's work to be done around here and you're all about the slacking. I'm sending General Zinc, Commander Echinaciea, and a whole bunch of vitamin C foot soldiers to kick your sloth-like bootay into action.

Cheering on the B-cells-ily,

Dear Sinuses,

Quit it with the clogging. You're not helping the immune system out here at all, and I'm beginning to thing about ways to remove you permanently. Be one with the nasal steroids.

Thinking about getting the drill-ily,

Dear Wrigley,

How much do you rock? You're finally eating, and you take your antibiotics and tagamet like a champ. I forgive you for defecting to Chris while he was visiting.

Love and snoochie-boochies,

Dear Conference Calls,

You're swamping me here. Should I just have my headset (would you like fries with that?) surgically implanted onto my ear? It's such a sexy look.

Press star 6 to mute-ily,

Dear Motivation,

You're hanging around with that bad crowd, immune system, again, aren'tcha. Quit loafing, and lets get with the program. No, really. If you're good, I'll let you sleep in on Saturday, which is being more than nice.

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    hungry hungry
primary butterflies

(no subject)

It's gross yourself out day, here at the maigrey AIM ranch.

I blame spooble and vill.

Selections from the ranch:

  • chocolate with peckers

  • confusing tampons with popsicles

  • spooble at your cervix

Someone please help me, I'm stuck on this train wreck and I can't get off!
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