Dinner Dateby Violet Tiara ![]() May 27, 2002 Swizzle-stick me in a jar,
mastodons in foreign cars. Oh what lovely buggering bubbly sex shows on starships tonight! Chew up those rancid tulips like I know you want to, Stone Phillips. Belching out butterflies, watching them flutter by, gastric delights hued in blue. Don't be so dumb, dressed up and down in that bubblegum. Don't you know you're the queen? Practical jokes are so mean. My lady you drink like a whore. Rubber wigs are low-fuss. Parsley sprigs condemn us. Slap on that wig and shit out a fig, see if they won't now get us a table! Stone Phillips, the queen and me, dancing on MTV. Dining on the finest low-calorie vaginas this posh restaurant can provide us. Laughing whenever we see the bluebirds of jealousy. Asking a Yeti with a ceramic machete to kindly pass the spicy mustards. The creature, a teacher, a pig and the pope sang a song all about their plans to elope. And with a loud blast the ballroom was gassed (and though it was passed) I don't think that was spicy mustard. Quote of the Day“Fascism is not the devices and mechanisms that force us to our knees, but those who operate in the shadows and convince us "on our knees" is the place we're born. And the first seed of fascism is rent.”-Crosby in 3F, every first of the month Fortune 500 CookieToday is not your day, buddy—by a horrible bit of luck, your day was exactly six weeks before you were conceived. The good news is you look a lot like William Daniels; the bad news is that doesn't pay much these days. Watch out Thursday, when you're nearly buried in a deluge of Fangoria magazines that have been building up in your closet. Lucky numbers? You want luck? Eat me, sadsack.Try again later. Top 5 commune Features This Week
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