More of the same. Striving for an elegy to yesterday's dipsy by the grill. This part is brought to you by Scrotal D' Smusher, when you roll over and knee your own balls, smush 'em to resemble your first visit to Mouthland. Cute and tucked.

Those elevator dreams reflect the lost car nightmares, so just a bump in the dream stream or just another night of coveted sleep? Laying awake looking at the ceiling, I go to places like figuring out if you grab a cheek and pull on it while farting, there's no sound <- lesson learned about extinguishing life's noises.

Then there's the warning about weaponizing a gal's hoo-hah Too soon? It's only mentioned here because we haven't seethed in 23 years and even the conjecture that you could be gobbled by your favorite snack 😷 translates to put it here.