Over 16,529,851 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
I'd ride you with all the enthusiasm a man one third my age would ride a tricycle.
That is to say that for the price of matching tattoos, 20 shots of tequila, and a pair of ruined lives, I'd be willing to give you my last name.
Sign the dotted line, sing the stupid dance, and I'll see you in appeals.
... where the hell is my slinky?
Slinky is true love.
Truer than beauty. Truer than chastity and fidelity.
See, the slinky can only go so far before it gets bent out of shape, or just recoils to your palm.
It works just as well for yoyos- but when was the last time a slinky clocked you in the forehead or eye with hard wood and noteable velocity?
Either one can lose their spring, their usefulness, their zest...
That's why we discard them.
Then we move on to bigger better toys, with more running parts, shining led's and buzzers
or we settle for the first one that works.
Will you always love me so truly?
Will I?
Love is a fair mirage, rose petals when you're expecting smooth cheek skin.
Tepid summer rain when you're wanting teardrops a flicker away.
We can buy it all really, one way or another.
Chocolates, jewelry, cars, cigarettes...
its just a pleasantly addictive commodity,
and I've been for sale for quite some time.
Promises, kids, oopses, aws, and firm desperate embraces.
With all the mastery of any soliloquy drunk player.
Maybe that's why I have this toy in hand, and not another.
Fewer people to hurt,
fewer spills to clean up.
