31 Straight Up

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Messier 31 is a post-feminist Galaxy as is Frank Sauce

Every Friday afternoon after work I eat matzo balls and think of my old roommate Seth who hated them but loved to dumpster dive and make soup from vegetables he found

I got fired from my job for going to the bathroom too often. 22 trips a day. The job was boring, averaging 23 cups of coffee per day to stay awake.

Mary’s been married thirteen years and has three kids. Last night, she woke up to find her bed littered with love notes she wrote to a boy when she was eleven.

I had knuckle soup for lunch again today; stewed ball-bearings are for dinner. I figure I’ll be dead by summer. Everyone else thinks otherwise, but they don’t know what I eat.

Thanks to Crane's Bill for the Form

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