Poetry Is Magnetic

Man, I love Magnetic Poetry. I don't know why I don't own a set myself. It may be because the magic would wear off if I made little poems on my fridge all the time. Either that, or I'd simply not get anything done at all because of it. So, I'm content to manhandle any of my friends' fridges that are adorned with the little strips of magnetic wordplay goodness.

My earliest memory of seeing the poetry in action was back in my days in Pritchard, when a guy down the hall had some little number about "beer in fridge good" or something like that. I had some great ones at Jen's old place, as well as the legendary Knollwood 1304 place, but alas - those are gone. Last weekend, however, a bunch of us hung out at Sarah's new apartment after the game. We had a little too much fun with the magnetic poetry, I believe - because after all, part of the fun is seeing how you can turn ordinary words into inappropriate phrases. A full-fledged picture gallery may be forthcoming, but today I graced you with one of my PG poems. It sums up my feelings this Friday quite succinctly. It's more of a phrase, really, but I guess Magnetic Phrases doesn't quite have the same effect.

(The other one I really liked, "jocks love your drawers," came out blurry. I'll have to snap another picture the next time I'm at Sarah's.)