Peacocks, Not Phocks

ABOUT EVERYDAY

I Lose My Appetite For Eating Sh!t Sandwiches …  

“Tolerating Insolence From Social Malcontents Suffering Nincompoopy Complexes … Fills Me Up To The Jowls Of Joy.”

As My Taste Buds Morph From Slightly Briny To Bitterly Sour 

I Can’t Help My Gluttonous Self From Noshing On A Varied, But Unsatisfying Menu Of Dinklettes.  Doofuses.  Whatnows?

 

PHÖCKUTALLY-SPEAKING

Eating Rancid Crow Four Days In A Row … 

Gives Me A Rash.

“I Get Itchy & Scratchy In All The Wrong Places.”

I’ve Developed A Food Allergy To Merde.  I Can’t Digest Sh!t.  Feces-Intolerant.

 

THE REMEDY

The Prescribed Ointment Is Topical …  

Superficial.  Like The Root Cause.  Enabling Clowns Only Makes Bad Matters Worst.

“Combating Nonsense With Reason And Rationale Hasn’t Worked For Me.”

Medieval Meltdowns?  Nah. 

 

ITS BEEN A FLIPPIN’ SH!T SHOW

One Of Those Special Weeks In My Fabulous Life … 

When I’ve Had It Up The Wazoo with Urban Phöckery and Klûsterfeltches.

“Tested My Limits On Listening To Regurgitated Idiocy From Whatnows.” 

… At The Grind Factory.

 

BURN ON, NOT OUT:  EFFIGY OF EFF’S

What I Do Is … Gather All Of The Eff’s I’ve Collected For The Day … 

And, Take Back Every Eff I’ve Given.

“I Build A Big Stack.  Pile Up All The Eff’s … High And Neat.”

… Get My Kerosene Meet Zippo Pyro Mode On, And Torch The Loving Sh!t Out Of Them.

 

THEN I DRIVE AWAY

Tap On Spotify Dance Mix #12 … Groove It Out.

Get My Gym Love On.  Sweat Like A Filthy Swine.  Press A Smile.

“Giggle My Tired Ass To Sleep … Dream Of Peacocks, Dandelions And Gluten-Filled Days.”

… Wake Up On The Fine & Dandy Side Of Life.

 

Image by Tracy Lundgren from Pixabay