Gasping yet? How about your pulse, is it racing? Well I don't blush easily, and neither does Tawna so lucky for me, Matt the Cat drew my name. Remember?
Matt's THE dude of all dudecatsOkay. Now that we're all caught up.Yesterday, after an exhausting night of barely sleeping, my droopy eyes peered into the mailbox where this had arrived:
Hello. I'm Mr. Stop. I clog up your liquid alcohol in a smutty fashion.
Well, not EXACTLY like this, but unlike Tawna, I don't write offbeat romantic comedies so I'm not sure I could get away with the thing in all its, err, natural glory. So anyway, thank you Tawna for this prestigious award. I'll be sure to put it front and center when company comes.
Aside from hand-carved body parts in my mailbox, you can run over to Choco's blog where I guested, spilling the ultimate guide for concert-goers.
I'm still recovering from love bubbles in my belly from Bert, and plan to see him again this weekend. Wow. Sounds like we're in a relationship. Pretty sure that's called psychotic (but I don't think I care). Music is a funny thing. It makes you fall in love with the person behind the words. Something I can only dream of doing with my novel(s). Maybe soon, I'll be someone's Bert. *unrolls the pouty lip*
How about you? If you had a phallic wine stopper, would you display in front of company? More importantly, can I be *your* Bert?
Candyland (and Mr. Stop)