totally contextually irreverant:

if memory serves
  -or-
[represses]

gentelmen's game, so i'm told, but i prefer putt-putt; more nuance, less science, less

agony, more proletariat. i got a crank call from a paul that said he slayed all the

extreme views; it was a green party, indeed.

i once rudely interrupted another party, a max faux pas, cause it was for those

identitified as special; but i bluffed my way in, and the rest was a mix of justification

and trepidation. it was a frisbee in my head, only, i wondered if this is par for the

course?

parse the third or fourth hole in the map, and it confuses the player; start at first

base, steal second, get an assist to third, pray for help to come home; this seems like a

rbi, but its simply prose already screed.