Major wedgie action at the gym: Her ass looked like the letter V.

Cover band at Third Place Books attempts to pull off Violent Femmes: Oy!

The vase of rotting flowers next to me smells just like rotting flowers.

A cowboy holds his mixed-flower bouquet while waiting for the metro.

I want to spend the day doing something boring, like brushing my hair.

Four nights into fall, moths scatter from streetlights, regroup on dark objects.

I just sucked some licorice into my mouth: It felt a little strange.

Dude, not woot!, w00t!—you have to substitute zeros for the letter O.

Bones into glass, a bird thwacks the bedroom window, lands in weed-flowers.

The lovebird with a clutched egg is having a far worse day than I am.