(Personal) Meanderings Cont. Get out of my head (#1)

Hello world. 

Hey there.

Yo, homie!

Sup, dawg…

你好!

Fancy seeing you here. Meandering. 

Meandering in a coffee-soiled, plum, velveteen business suit, meandering in lululemon leggings and oblong Ugg boots, meandering in flared jeans, an Old Navy sweatshirt, and no-show socks.

A meandering, churlish French man with a  baguette and a bristly mustache, who divorced his sallow wife for an Italian girl in a floral, crepe dress, who trills, “Monseuirrrr?”

If only I was the Itali-

Don’t ask.

a meandering grandma, an itty-bitty sweetheart who embraced her snail-mail self, tentatively tiptoed across the threshold of The Internet, cowering in the  onslaught of “tab-after tab-TAB-TAB-NO, ANOTHER WINDOW-tab-after tab.”

All to indulge herself on the online sales for turtle-necked sweaters.

And what, you demand, shaking a manicured nail at the sky, is that verbose trash, that good-for-nothing nonsense?

I was meandering, ladies and gents. Meandering.

Meandering from Ugg boots, to a baguette, and oscillating to a rest at “sweetheart grandma.”

The above is forced creativity at its finest, really.

 

 

 

 

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