There is no nashville making small talk, big talk, any talk.
It’s made “Nashville Is Talking” kind of….
dry.
This is like the weekend that EVERYONE swore of blogging.
Just my luck.
Aunt B… I had a really bad weekend, myself but still love you. Boob freckle and all.
Oops. You don’t know about my other blog…
Maybe if you posted pictures of your freckle?
Okay, I can see how that’d be fun for you, but I can’t see how that’d be any fun for me. No, I think it’s far better if the boob freckle reaches Bigfoot levels of legendary status, with people claiming to see it, people hoping to see it, and people hiding behind my garbage cans trying to see it.
If you got all my wit and photos of the boob freckle here at Tiny Cat Pants, why would anyone ever bother to visit me?
Always annoyed, working on getting slightly drunk. Tried last night, didn’t happen. Working on it again. It’s been that kind of weekend.
Is that what the scary hobos were doing out behind your place? Trying to get a glimpse of the elusive boob freckle?
I hadn’t thought of that. I guess it’s a very good thing I didn’t ask Sarcastro to come over and shoot them. It’d be very embarrassing if they turned out to be fans.
Even so, they should still be shot.
I think if they saw you strutting around with your awesome gun, they might not even mind terribly. Sure, they’d be pissed about being shot, but it would be outweighed by their admiration for how awesome that gun is.
Tiny Cat Pants 
I’m drunk on bossanova.
There is no nashville making small talk, big talk, any talk.
It’s made “Nashville Is Talking” kind of….
dry.
This is like the weekend that EVERYONE swore of blogging.
Just my luck.
Aunt B… I had a really bad weekend, myself but still love you. Boob freckle and all.
Oops. You don’t know about my other blog…
Maybe if you posted pictures of your freckle?
Okay, I can see how that’d be fun for you, but I can’t see how that’d be any fun for me. No, I think it’s far better if the boob freckle reaches Bigfoot levels of legendary status, with people claiming to see it, people hoping to see it, and people hiding behind my garbage cans trying to see it.
If you got all my wit and photos of the boob freckle here at Tiny Cat Pants, why would anyone ever bother to visit me?
Always annoyed, working on getting slightly drunk. Tried last night, didn’t happen. Working on it again.
It’s been that kind of weekend.
Is that what the scary hobos were doing out behind your place? Trying to get a glimpse of the elusive boob freckle?
I hadn’t thought of that. I guess it’s a very good thing I didn’t ask Sarcastro to come over and shoot them. It’d be very embarrassing if they turned out to be fans.
Even so, they should still be shot.
I think if they saw you strutting around with your awesome gun, they might not even mind terribly. Sure, they’d be pissed about being shot, but it would be outweighed by their admiration for how awesome that gun is.