they're nice, and i enjoyed looking at them for quite a while. still, i don't think i should show her mine. it just doesn't stand up to hers.

the time between laundry days expands to fit the amount of available underwear.

the impossibility of immortality is as sure as death.

let me correct this. i can confidently speak for the whole staff of the dr. freud mental home when i assure you that we were not exactly delighted about headmaster johnsson's early retirement. what i meant to say was just that we adjusted to the new situation quitty prickly ... err, i mean, penis!

just as she was concerned about finishing quickly, as she knew there wouldn't be anything left in the bag after that round, she got jism on her rack. only four letters, but those 26 points (there was a double word score) were all she needed.

"i can't wait until school starts. i'll learn to write letters!"

"and who are you going to write letters to?"

"why, loads of people. and i'll write one to grampa's hens. dear hens, your eggs taste very good, but i always have to add salt. if you could please make them more salty, that would be great. yours, todd."

"why don't you just go over to the stable and tell them?"

"don't be silly, they don't speak english!"

sure i have a complex social network! you know, real friends, imaginary friends ...

hey, you can't say 'nutcases', this is a church-run sanatorium! there are morons, there are imbeciles, and there are catholics.