I passed some firemen on the street yesterday and we eye-flirted. I thought about how if there was a proposition to cut funding for the fire department and the SFFD held a parade to raise public awareness and they asked me to be one of the scantily-clad girls on the float, I would. Because I think they are pretty great, mustaches and all. By the time I got to the Lad’s door I was mentally leading the other float girls in a pro-fireman cheer to the crowd, but I could only rhyme “your house in ruins” with “Newsom’s goons” and I was worried that Sean might be in the crowd and be disappointed in me for writing such a terrible rhyme. So then I tried to invent a verse about how this is the fire department, Sean, not the Pentavirate, but I couldn’t rhyme anything there either.
Before this, I wrote a song for the Lad which does rhyme excellently as follows:
My pumpkin bread
My peanut shell
My parakeet
My pimpernel
Sometimes when he is working away on the computer and I want him to come to bed for heaven’s sake I lean my head over the edge of the loft and sing it to him with various different tunes that I am trying out. He really likes it.
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