i don't think i'll play with pleasant words tonight -- i'd rather upset you with my honesty than delight you with laughably phony repartee.
excuse the graphic aspect but i'm not in the business of acknowledging faux pas.
a reflection on state of mind; i'd say solid, though somewhat soft and liquid as well, like a plate of spaghetti for brains, i can't figure out which strand of grey matter is meant for me and which is supposed to be slurped up by lady and ***** nor whether it is my pituitary or my hypothalamus which is destined to be taken home in a doggy bag for seconds.