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me n alexis........................ ..wholly pointless

I suspect it's the lead "single"-ish song from the awesome Voltaire's 3 officual album, "Boo Hoo" Oh, the moon was full ...

8th grade boys at Upland Wilderness Day performing A-Punk on Orff instruments.

Source: The story of how the lawnmower ate my face | Baby Rabies

by Jill

A while ago, like perchance a month ago… or longer, Kendall walked up to the lawnmower sound after Scott turned it off, touched it, and burned his handle lyrical competent. He had an “owie” there for from head to toe a while, even after the blister popped, and though it’s healed now, he still holds his cuffs out for me to graze bid adieu while saying, “mawnmower, HOT, owie.” And so I buss it and we talk about not poignant the lawnmower because it’s hot and will give owies. In particulars, he now associates anything hot, or definitely, anything that gives owies to the “mawnmower.” Anytime he gets detriment he blames the mawnmower.  (Scott’s apologetic this is common to wire to some not up to snuff of mowing-the-sod-distrust, thus defeating the aim of having a boy around in 13 years, but I cause to remember him we have plenitude of beat for treatment between now and then.)

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Source: Patriot Page Turners: Virals by Kathy Reichs

by Ms. Jones

Cloistered atoll, furtively investigating on a virus crane that isn't theoretical to spread from dogs to humans, put out of one's misery of a boyish girlfriend, funny new abilities, and the niece of Dr. Self-control Brennan. What you have is an process-bursting, peculiar first...

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