Satan wears pink panties...

Yes, under his samite, the Father of Lies is sporting fancy french pink silk panties; he seems the type to spare no expense on his undergarments.

But seriously, what do you buy the Prince of Evil for Christmas? He, or it if you feel that is more appropriate, has all the toys he'll ever need, and as we have already asserted, he doesnt mind spending a pretty penny on his wardrobe. Channell, as far as I am aware, doesnt bottle misery and despair.

And I feel sorry for the poor sod who gets Satan as his secret santa, I'm sure you can imagine the party, "Oh Lucifer, you shouldn't have, really, I mean I can't wear this... err lovely... teeth and neckbone... creation... with Dior! Oh no I didn't mean that! I love it really, please dont eat my flesh off!"

So this is my first post...

Ah, a virginal sheet of paper... err well empty html? I dont know whether to be sadened by the fact that the interweb has changed correspondance, not to mention the Arte of Writing, so. There is just something about a nice clean crisp piece of paper unsullied by the dren that I write. But this is not what I want to talk about... I mean, its as good a topic as any, but Im sure everyone has covered this subject, again and well again. I need not add my sophistry to the pot.

So I write instead about cows, cuse at this point I am getting lots of eyebrows at my title, or if not I am much saddened. I must warn you, I am not very familiar with cows, one could say, and I have, I am as familiar with cows as, say, a Thardakian pronghorned moose is with Le Boheme. But I have heard cows moo, oh sorry looo, (I am being corrected), in polyphony. Now if you are wondering what polyphony means... ask a musicologist, I dont happen to have that lauderous title, Im just a musician, who failed all her musicology courses.

I, the city girl, and my girlfriend, the country girl, were invited to a cider squeeze, a little know coloqual term for a cider pressing party, (you see I had to learn these country things at college), by my roomie, (remind me to call her), and we had lots of adventures, including a flat tire, singed eyebrows, and pulled muscles, (not those kinds of muscles, Im shocked!), But what you want to hear about are the cows, yes?

Imagine this, a nice brisk autumn afternoon in middle America, a nice lazy stroll through rolling meadows, a beautiful sunset, oak trees, cows... are you getting the picture? Yes? Well it was sorta like that. Yes, there were cows, and oak trees, and yes the sunset was beautiful, and it was brisk, but the brisk of a day that would freeze the balls off a muskox, and the pastures rolled so much that if you pushed a munchkin off the top of a hill, he would be going mach 5 by the time he hit the bottom. So you can guess, we were booking it, the three of us, two country girls, and me, but at the end of our hike; a bovine chorus. Oh to the end of my days I will remember it. Cows and calves, and heifers milling around making their presence known, saying in their little cow-y way, "feed me." It was sweet cow harmony, intricate cow interlocking hocketting. The little babies sang soprano and the big mommas sang bass.

Then I singed my eyebrows off at the bonfire.