don't count your kitchens until they hatch

It sucks that on December 12th I feel so cruddy. Oh well, time will heal.

The border on the edge of the limit was at the periphery of the outline near the horizon. The coy cowboy named Leroy expressed joy at eating soy.

Two things that aren't made of ghost shavings melt the caustic just like one would expect a river only partially frozen to flow in a direction that is about as apathetic as is a teenager when considering doing her homework. A lift, not a gift or a gist, was on offer by the nematodes that could only count to two. The donkey named Henry could count to two too. The optimizer wasn't able, however, to count three three three.

A list of the movies whose titles begin with the letter '7' would be insurmountable if added together into a blender into which also is thrown top ten lists made of goat cheese and two day old sauna mist. The couch salesperson didn't keep from not sitting.

111% is about the same size as a serpent that slurps sideways. Is there a difference between a serpent and a snake? Is there a difference between a slurp and a burp? A wren and a hen? A hand and a band?

112% comes next, though this is of interest perhaps only to the author of this post, or, perhaps, not even him.

Digging a hole into which a whole dole would roll the fall that is tall makes a window out of pretty much everyone. I should know.