For over at QQQ's way, yeah typing that out would just cause dismay..haha. There is a blogfest today. Yes! I know everyone is becoming a pimp as they have their say. As long as no fluffy hats and fees are charged I think we will be okay. But if you are one of those stay away or I will hit you with STD repelling spray.
I figured what better way to go about this little venture than with a certain drinking song adventure. Yes, I brought it back. Don't give me a smack. Or I will hide in my bush with a crack. For those not in the know that might cause flack. So my rambling will cease before QQQ calls the blogfest police.
The Blogfest Irish Drinking Song
So I'm supposed to follow the rule of three,
Giving praise who I go to see.
But you will soon learn what a cheat I can be.
For with Pat and the cat that is three plus three.
Meaning we could do thirty three or more.
I think my math just took a detour.
But what can you do?
Blame the school system, that's who!
This should be done with nothing too crass.
But I make no promises with my little rhyming ass.
Will take you to the crazy prom.
Peeing in parking garages and swindling with mints,
Can leave those kind of imprints.
Whoops! I hit the skids,
That stuff is done by her kids.
This would go on all night,
If I sucked back twelve cups of coffee as I write.
Damn! My Five Men just caused another fright,
As here comes a new recipe in sight.
Oh! My poor ocd.
Pile that laundry higher so I am no longer able to see.
But the shoes are nice and in a row
And tons of kitties join in for the show.
Why are you so obsessed with me?
Raviolis & Waterworks is who you should go see.
Oh wait! She already has one stalker on her plate.
That could be a heinous fate.
But she knows the tell tale signs.
So stalkers will go on the declines.
Maybe hit a land mine.
I guess karma has decided to align.
Out flips the bird,
For you shouting nuts seem quite absurd.
Oh! Was that a dirty look,
WaystationOne can write a book.
Now you are immortalized in pen,
In 160 characters or ten.
Even shows off 3000 pairs of underwear,
Maybe he could send you a pair?
Hollywood is so fake,
The BS could float a lake.
But the Hollywood Spy digs deep.
Now you no longer will go what the bleep.
As you will know the inside scoop,
Might even be able to tell you when they poop.
If that is your sort of thing.
Warning! No matter how pretty, the smell will still sting.
All the T's might make you go blind,
If the tongue twister you find.
But Poetical Psyche will wake you up,
Without a single hiccup.
Going from western to medieval,
Truly quite the retrieval.
All comes off without a hitch.
Oh! And give Blogger a clap, as it stopped being a bitch!
Was this a Slamdunk?
Even if I Live High and my math stunk?
Stop being The Contemplative Cat,
And climb a Rainbow how about that?
Madhulika Speaks to the cat too!
Women: We Shall Overcome, it's true.
Even My Maniacal Mind knows that sounded bad.
I blame that Technosauce lad.
So I will end it here,
For I bent the rules I fear.
Hell! I blew them all away,
As I went about my rhyme play.
But what's a blogfest to be.
If you can't fest with more than three.
What if one gets too drunk and decides to pass?
Aren't you glad that was thought of by my little rhyming ass?
And I am a cat not a pup,
Either way math went out the window so suck it up buttercup!
So the facts are simple enough the cat cannot do math even in the buff. Three is just a number to me and I make it what I want it to be. So if you must call the blogfest cop, first do the bunny hop. Now don't you feel better as you flail? You little bunny hopping tattle tale. Now the blogfest has come to pass and that is all today from my little rhyming ass.
Later all, have a nice fall.