In the Garden Where Nothing Grows
If you will just have patience with me for another 7 hours, I plan a return to this version of my self. In the meantime, perhaps you can play the home version of Poor Impulse Control. Blogger is screwing me over. I have to change my names again, and since I'm just not going to tell you the name my mother growls when I show up in fishnets, I require glorious new nomenclature. What should we christen me for the foreseeable future? If you happen to know the name on my driver license, please don't enter it into comments. It won't help, anyhow. So. What's my new name, lover?
posted by Tata at 2:51 PM
5 Comments:
Eliza
As in Doolittle? Interesting. I can shout, "MOVE YER BLOOMIN' ASS!" with impunity and wear colossal hats.
Uh, Tata, shouldn't that be arse?
Sure, it should be. But here in Jersey, ass is a two-syllable word, which is funny, no?
You are so right. Down here, too. I say it lack a-s, and the A rhymes with hay.
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