Can you see my butt, last place? Can you even see my butt? Okay, so perhaps I'm not that far ahead of the losers [1] at the bottom of the standings, but I'm doing respectable: I finished third in my foursome (three strokes ahead of fourth, eight behind second, many many behind first). I'd even put even odds on me being stuck in only the second-to-last of the eighteen foursomes instead of the last one this next round. Hooray for me! Eighty-fourth place, here I come! Soon, I will start getting conceited and obnoxious about my unbelievable playing ability!
Okay. I must leave the library to play round two now.
[1] They are only losers until I join their ranks; then, they become simply "victims of bad luck."
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
