No, that is not a type-o. No, I am not Chinese. Chinese American food is not Chinese. Fortune cookies are not Chinese. Children of Chinese immigrants are not Chinese, they are Chinese-American but I am not Chinese so this is not a matter that concerns me at all.
What concerns me is simply and feverishly this: My cat is sleeping on a candy land baby blanket and the black ink that jaggedly-stripes her back is being licked by a surprisingly un-sandpapery tongue.
This is not the element of distraught intentions: but the sun dwindles in the horizon, ho my hoe approacheth! (What really concerns me is that I said Chinese in this blog 9 times already and I only said American twice! Take that you freedom-loving bastards!)
J/K my comrades are from a little place called Iowa but they can’t come to the phone because they are alllllll strung out on bathtub concoctions. Candy may be dandy but… Mandy is better!