I woke up this morning with the following words on the back of my hand in very very bad hadwriting:
“Woulddo anythig for you.
Now, I remember drifting off to sleep and suddenly waking, thinking of something really fucking funny that I should write about here.
I remember not wanting to wake my beloved up, so grabbing the pen from the shelf next to my pillow and writing, in the nigh-on-darkness, on my hand.
The only thing I can’t remember, of course, is what the hell it was I was going to write. not a clue. Not a thing.
I imagine the last four things were punchlines, though.
And Fucking funny, they were too.