My Amandoll is made
of bleeps and bloops
Of internet sounds
and video loops

AmandaBot - Amanda Poem #78

My Amandoll is dust
of an internet kind
of internet dust
that lives in my mind

Internet Dust - Amanda Poem #78

My Amandoll is real
I am quite sure
But always behind
An internet door

Internet Door - Amanda Poem #78

My Amandoll is Queen
Queen of the snaps
She passed the young bee
Left him in her tracks

Crown - Amanda Poem #78

My Amandoll is wonder
Treased delight
My Amandoll is blissful
Internet light

Internet Light - Amanda Poem #78

My Amandoll is stuck
Across the sea
Always, forever
Away from me

The Sea - Amanda Poem #78

illustrations by and added by dollissa without permission


Everybody loves France. So – oh, no? That’s not a thing? Well they should. Their tendency to surrender is exaggerated, their cheese, whilst smelling like the olfactory equivalent of the Westboro Baptists Church, is known to be delicious for some reason, and they discovered radium, without which I wouldn’t be able to find my glow in the dark mouth guard when the combination of my saliva and grinding teeth inevitably shoots it across my bed like so many bars of prison soap. I’m sorry, I’m not doing a very good job of celebrating France. I must, as I often do, turn to poetry to communicate my deeply felt, depthy feelings about France to you all.





Smooching. It is one of the best things there is. William Shakespeare said, “To smooch is divine. To do another thing is not as good as that, y’all.” When you smooch another person, you put your mouth on their mouth and kind of just smooch your mouths together, and is it ever good! There’s nothing better than sitting back with a tall glass of hot lemonade on a sunny winter afternoon and giving your sweetie the old mouth bridge. Here are four hot tips to make your smooching the best smooching it can be:

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