Oops! I did it again.
I played with your heart. Got lost in the game. Oo baby, baby! I’ve been a bad, bad girl. I’ve been careless with a delicate man. And apparently my body has been inhabited by a throwback teenager. It’s all because Teen Nick is re-airing every single 90′s sitcom that defined my childhood. This just set me back like, 10 years. But you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m comfortable with my level of maturity, as displayed by A Painted Shel. Which I have again neglected, despite Erin always being on time. I’m not always there when you call, but I’m always on time, and I gave you my all, now baby be mine. ACK.
So anyways, I asked Erin to choose this week’s selection and I wanted it to mean something to her. Something really special, you know? Below please find the actual text of the email that accompanied her illustration:
Since you suggested I choose a poem that has meaning to me and since A Painted Shel is a throwback to childhood, i OBVIOUSLY chose the one about picking your nose. This adorable habit has been a life-long passion of mine, as I was an avid public picker until the age of 7….okay 12. Unfortunately, history has started repeating itself and I’m a public picker again. You’re welcome New York. (Side bar: I tried to find one that also incorporated peeing the bed because I know that was your “thing” as a youth, but alas, no luck.)
Did anyone else just get chills?
Thanks for sharing your special hobby, Erin! More on my “thing” another day. Today is Erin’s day! Please enjoy “Warning:”
“Warning” from Where the Sidewalk Ends
Inside everybody’s nose
There lives a sharp-toothed snail.
So if you stick your finger in,
He may bite off your nail.
Stick it farther up inside,
And he may bite your ring off.
Stick it all the way, and he
May bite the whole darn thing off.
- Shel Silverstein
parrypants (& erinelizabeth.paxson)