Icons on the indie jacket I found lying on the ground Tuesday night of last week:
- a large goldenrod-coloured rabbit
- six white umbrellas
- a pink bikini-bottomed woman with a cross t-shirt
- trippy sherbet-coloured lips (x2)
- a were-chihuahua which transforms at the advent of a pink moon
- an ill-tempered owl
- the water cycle, which begins with pink owls and ends with a flood of sidewalk chalk water
- a cloud in need of a shave
- four incisors
- a bellybutton
- a golden flower tinged with pink tree disease, a condition which, I conclude, spreads only in graveyards which do not have undertakers or gardeners (indicated by the presence of the were-chihuahua)
- essence of Tim Hunt
- essence of indie (see above)
- chiclets
1 comment:
I was not aware of the chiclets. You'll have to show me while you still hold the flaming garment of indie. I feel like that sweater is the equivalent of the shroud of Turin to those of us that worship Tim Hunt, even from afar, as I do.
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