The left brain and the wrong brain

Quadraphonic elk farts recorded by a thirty-something female arbourist and then used as the backdrop sound to a ytube video of a newborn goat mimicking a recently fed tarantula required very few soup spoons.

That my wrists are not tied together like the way an iguana species got crossed with a desk lamp with an ivory coloured, tasseled lamp shade, reminded no one of anything important or consequential. Not all of the posts that start with a twelve letter word are likely to end with a twelve letter word.

Broccoli as a friend of mine went swimming uphill while playing chess against am incorrigible greyhound (the dog, not the bus). It isn't often you'd find an incorrigible bus.

At the moment I own exactly zero operational wrist watches. I've been getting better at counting to zero.

Insisting that the soliloquy ought to have begun with a preposition was not my idea of having a good time. Then again, I'm not exactly certain what my idea of having a good time might be; unless, perhaps, it involved i/g.

Oddly enough, back in the early 2000's, I used to play Ping-Pong/Table Tennis with two friends and we shortened what we called it, somehow, to i/g (pronounced eye-gee).

I have an idea that may allow me to play again with some regularity, but I am not certain if the plan will either be accepted, or if it will work.

Incidentally, while this sentence began with a twelve letter word, the fact that this post ended with one also, is incorrigible.