🚀 go-pugleaf

In article <TEST%92061606562685@PSUVM.PSU.EDU> you write:
>                                                I'd marry you
>any day of the week, if only to misstirr up and dishevel a few
>mysteries, any of which, in predictable cul-de-sac circularity,
>would, how carefully soever answered (except the malappropriate
>way I want it), warrant a No No NO! to the formal plainsong of
>"do you take this um mollusk to be yr awfully wedded etc etc?",
>leaving self seulfull sic as ever.
>
>H.

Affable? Laughable!  Tawdry start, darling, but allowances to be
made for early misstep-ups and yr honeyed hair bee-hived in
glamourous amourous woebetides.  Malappropriate me, malannex me,
maladjust me for banded bands of gold in stereophonic surround
sound (after I sanded down the shelves, I found that a hacksaw
(a retinue's truism?) could cut the trick: done deed, all-in-one,
finis, mission accomplished: furniture reaches out to deliver its
blows, I just redesign, redesign, redesign, and voila! the comfits
of living as viewed from winding edges I'm at panes to shut: no
matter (yes, I know): do tell what Mr. Cookie Recipe hisself relayed,
and, in demonstrable honesty, I'll admit or deny as malappropriate:
THOUGH: CAVEAT: noms ne sont pas propre due to their inheren't
(mustn't forget) reappeling qualities:) it will never be Too Late;
I have always been willing (Hey! It's my past, after all, aussi),
and today, as they say in Ireland, is Tuesday.  So turn the reverb
down and return that verb to me ("shall we egress, m'dear?") and
A-way we go!!!  Or, conversely: hardly a plainsong, more of a ditty.
I'd be honored and obeyed if you would etc. etc. &c.  Um, about that
dowry cheque...   but, it is Tuesday, as you montaged, and it's my
day to slip and cave and to just read yr curvature being wrecked &
racked in longtemps je me dormouse tomes of How to Greet Visitors
upon the Landing Who Weren't Invited in the First (1st) Instance
(which, I can tell by your adhocence to hedge-betting, you've well-
absorbed).  Who can tell?  Like you imagined in a Victorian drawing
room: corsets and veils.  Fan the flabellum in quod eros for duty-free
embellishment: Please do intrude that I might, yet, take your cold
cold hands into mine and gazing as dictated by decorum, state without
reservations, "la la la la la la la la la la la" [ref. ACD65432760H].

M.