smatta, aye?

of course only those who know the secret language of the stooges, marxes, and others of their ilk (hey abbott!) or perhaps some other new york city area bondage (moved to toronto?), would understand the title (hey, whatsamatta you?) but that's not the point because there is no point, that's the point (and the oxymoron or some such impossible girl... sigh)... and in rapid succession, in the real world, the following series of texts were sent (or received, depending on their reception) between the wonder twins, or us...

put down your phone and enjoy your sex

what?

don't laugh your ass off too much, your pants will fall down

pants on the ground, pants on the ground (everybody sing)

s'cuse me but i've clearly been caffeinated tonight

i need a new phone, it can't keep up with my fingers

i need new fingers, they can't keep up with my brain

i need a new brain, but that's been obvious for years

LMAO!!!!!!!

poops, there go the pants

i mean ooops

see what i mean about the fingers?...

and then she said:

that's what she said

narf :)