How to Fail At Spring

APRIL FOOLS I BLEW UP YOUR HOUSE!!! I tricked you -- it's not April Fools. APRIL FOOLS! And now that that's out of the way, I have decided to inform you that some of you fail at spring. To prevent further tragedies, I will wiggle my toes and then fall out of my chair. And in case you are wondering, these are the ways to fail at spring: Pretending it's winter. Being both fat and environmentally conscious. Pumping furniture into people's homes. Offending babies. Eating flowers. Kissing small clumps of moss. Trying to pet a moose. Starting the wave during Mass. Saying "home skizzle" if you are me. Setting fire to fancy bicycles, unless you then ride those bicycles. All of them. And finally, the most surefire way to fail at spring is to bounce around the room wildly and then inhale the entire President of the United States. I want to crump. But I don't want to push it. A teacher a day keeps the apple away. Sit on tepid eggnogs and hope for the toast. My tumbling senator turns around eight times before finding his parents. 12/21/12. That is the Day of Lots of Drunk People And/Or People Who Buy Lots of Supplies Because Obviously Bottled Water and Canned Green Beans Will Protect You If the World Blows Up. Or D.L.D.P.A.O.P.W.B.L.S.B.O.B.W.C.G.B.W.P.Y.I.W.B.U. for short. I keep radar in my pants in case I have to save a grilled cheese sandwich from the curb. Oh what a wonderful bean cake! I was driving along the sidewalk when suddenly there was oxygen. My insurance said no. I distinctly remember doing the worm. The pedestrian had no idea which direction to run, so I ran over him. I saw a slow-moving, sad faced old gentleman, as he bounced off the hood of my car. I was thrown from the car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows. This tilapia smells like panty hose. . . panty HOSE! So anyway, I thought you all might like to know what I did yesterday. First, I went to the sidewalk to visit my friend who tickles the stratosphere with his eyelashes when he walks down the road. His name is Life, and he likes to hand lemons to people who are walking by with their feet. I also have a cousin, whose name actually is Lemons. He was an orphan until he got born. Life kidnapped Lemons in order to give someone Lemons the Human and see what would happen. They ran away and tackled my grandmother. That's why my cousin always says "THE DESERVING UNIVERSAL THEATER IS VERY GREEN WITH THE FLAVOR OF ONION PATCH" Bugs bugs bugs make my nose burp! I am a shrubbery.