T'n'T'...

Tea and Toast.
every mornin', my ninjas.
with a spot of faux buttery fattie-boombattitude,
and a doo-doo dollop of jammie jam.
all british isles an' that.
it's well nice, yeah?
TnT, y'all.
it's a dyn-o-mite kickstart to every day.
and i use the broiler, b!tches.
because toaster ovens are waaaay too trailery,
and i don't eat hot pockets.
...recognize.
Tea and Toast;
that's the woodsly goodness equivalent
of gin and juice...
laaaaaaaaaaaiiiid back.
with my mind on my ladies stayin' up here,
havin' big fun and plannin' on even more...
what other other TnT is on the schedule today?
how about Thor and Thunder?!
i can't see why not, kids.
especially after we all woke up late from our floor-model
sleepytime showroom,
all folk-punk squatter-type snoozie and whatnot.
two kids, two grownish-ass adults,
and a dirty dog,
snug as dustmites in a pillowcase.
yep.
we've got the goods, comin' and goin',
and it's all so good.
lucky ducks and ducklings is what we are,
even if swanhood seems an unlikely reward for our ugly old selves.
alas,
i can spruce up an old wall,
but i'll probably still look just as butt-nasty standing next to it.
like an oyster and the pearl within,
in complete opposite and inverse proportions.
more like a turd in the taj mahal, maybe....
however it equates,
in the meandering meantime,
the just-be-dopeness of little bitty kiddies is pretty inspiring.
no foolin'.
they don't even see the random peeling poop-sprinkles
spead throughout the house.
they're either too young,
or maybe just a touch too rad,
to know anything about old bustedness at all.
they only see the epic hottness.
and that's word....
i'm trying on a pair of younger eyes today.
i need them jawns.
rose-colored irises or otherwise,
i've got my peepers a-peepin'
on that all-the-way-past-eleven kind of flavor.
that's some good-lookin' out.
thanks, girlie-girls,
i'm on the mutha-ucka;
never quiet, never soft.....