Ode to an assbrush

This one's for you, assybrushy.

Oh assbrush. How you fill the days with revelry and merriment. Who else would indulge the singing of showtunes? Who else would allow for the re-enactment of "Wild Boys"? Who else would regale me with terms of endearment to make a young girl swoon -- sweet sweet words like "dumbest of the dumb"?

When I think back on the days sans assbrush, I shriek, albeit silently. I shiver. I quake. Yes, even quake. The tremors. The tremors.

Yes, it's all true, assbrush. My confession. An ode to an assbrush. A po-em of sorts. You are an ass and a brush, and an assbrush all at the same time. Stupendous. Magnificent. Sweaty. And of course, dumb.

I bid you goodnight, assbrush, wherever you may be. And with that a word of advice: get a blog, dummy. The world needs more assbrushes of your kind.

Until we sing/dance/imbibe again...