Lick My Luscious Peach

When my mom discovered the wonders of magnetic poetry, she embraced it. In my house growing up, we always had at least one set of words, often more, just hanging out, begging to be put into some literary order.

The magnetic poetry was taken seriously. In fact, my mom sort of used the fridge poetry as something of a litmus test for Sammis-home newcomers. She said that it was always the smartest, most creative and interesting people who would notice the magnets and play with them.

It became a way to put a small stamp on our house, too. Sometimes we'd keep ridiculous phrases up for months and months, just because we liked who'd put them there. Sometimes we'd keep even more ridiculous phrases up for months and months because we had no idea who'd put them there.

When I moved to my own house, in my first stint as an adult, I received several sets of words -- Shakespearean words in particular -- for my own refrigerator. I was the next generation, and the tradition was to continue.

And over time, as family and friends visited my home, the next generation of silly magnetic poetry decorated my family-friendly fridge.

Now.

I think the second version of my adult life can well be summed up by the current phrases that adorn my fridge, here in San Francisco where no one I know has concerns about being family-friendly.

Or, you know, concerns about any sort of appropriateness at all.

For the record, I kind of like this version of my life and fridge. Though also for the record I would like to note that:

A. I did not author most of these, and

B. I don't know who did. Or when. They have simply appeared on my fridge over time, and I decided yesterday (at Amberance's unwitting suggestion) to photograph them as they are.

Enjoy.

* * * * *

This one was mine. I was probably heading to the freezer to get more ice for a cocktail I was drinking following the break-up with TheBoy.

It's silly, sure, but it made me feel better.


It's possible I also wrote the following:

But I don't remember. It's entirely likely that some other melancholic girl wandered into my kitchen and rearranged my magnets to let the sun know how she felt about it. But given that none of the other phrases are particularly meaningful, I'm gonna have to assume it was me.

Moving on...

As happens.

You know, it's HIGH TIME that the subject of analingus makes it
to my blog, don't you think?

Just try not to get any on the bedspread.

I'll bet. (And you know? Who could blame him?)

I'm not sure that magnetic refigerator poetry is the most appropriate medium for conveying this command, but what do I know. Maybe whoever posted it got lucky.



Whereas I like to watch you manipulate the English language.
In magnet form. In my kitchen.



The only enormous purple apparatus that I can think of is Barney, and that is just sooooo wrong. Also, do you think "sweat" was supposed to be included in this somehow?



Is there any other way?



I like this one a lot because the first part of it was mine.
"Two if by sea," I wrote, thinking at least I was referencing some sort of poem.
Which was great until some man (we can assume it was a guy)
came along and made it about sperm. I love my friends.



At least this one is pornographic in a poetic way.
Except I love how the word "pants" is just hanging out there, as though part of the sentence.
"...languidly when it is over. PANTS!"



If you're curious, this actually says:
the puppy drool is like repulsive rain on his fluffed sausage

I can't wait to see my keyword analysis this week!

So there you have it, folks. A veritable linguistic menagerie worthy of a frat house, brought to you by urban sophisticates.

Or, as they like to call themselves: