Part of a complete breakfast!
I want a moon mustache.
Seriously, though, that’s pretty damn cool.
We like the moon!
:: Grabs Anastasaeon and commences to tango furiously in the pale light of June’s waning moon… ::
Well of course it’s rich in calcium. It’s made of cheese. Wensleydale if I’m not mistaken.
Does Wensleydale have a certain patina about it?
Spongmonkeys… dancing with Inigo Montoya… Spongmonkeys… dancing with Inigo Montoya…
Dizzying highs and terrifying lows. And I wonder why I’m bi-polar.
I don’t just like the moon, me. I heart moon! You’d think a picture like that would be easy to Google up, but nooo, had to take a shot of it myself, sorry for the grainy quality.
So…um…which am I again, the high or the low?
High, baby, high!
Should have specified. Let’s tango some more.
Ok…say, you should ditch your guy and hang out with me–it’d be like living in a Ray Bradbury amusement park: Dizzying highs, terrifying lows, neck-twisting turns of fate, mind blowing weirdness during the day, surreal nights…and clowns oh the freaky clowns! with blowguns and peacock feather hats! Line dancing under the moonlight with spongmonkey-painted faces and raspy high-pitched voices! Don’t be afraid, I see them too! Bwa hahahahahaha!
Ok, or not. Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?