I hate your guts!
My feet look like tomatoes! Junior finally made first chair in marching band, not that you'd care. Congolese mercenaries have taken our food processor hostage and are demanding a ransom. No, really! The lawn is a constant source of stress. Last month we investigated different uses for a bloody, severed arm.
Wow, was that a meteor that just hit the shed?
Reload for a new letter!
Neale Pickett <neale@woozle.org>