The long, slow journey to the St. Vitus Mental Ward continues.
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
Hamlet
You f'ing made this up, right?
ReplyDeleteI f-ing kid you not.
ReplyDeleteIt's like Mrs. Doyle on Father Ted.
ReplyDeleteGet her to a nunnery, yo.
ReplyDelete"at some point doesn't f-ing seem like a complete waste"
ReplyDeleteOnly if you're doing it right.
Oh, the irony of K-Lo mourning wasted syllables. You could say the same for her entire writing career.
ReplyDeleteSame for "blessed".
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIs it legal for the idea of K-Lo and the physical act of f-ing to be considered as one?
ReplyDeleteThen, again the concept of K-Lo and sex is about as repulsive as a "romantic" evening at the Sudermans.
Can't you just see the vision of an overweight little boy in a Catholic prep school uniform standing up in his classroom Tuesday afternoon and yelling:
ReplyDelete"K-Lo twittered f-ing! I'm gonna tell the teacher! K-Lo twittered fing! I'm gonna tell the teacher!"
Not when our country, our economy and our politics are all so f-cked up...
ReplyDelete