springtime...
... for Hitler and Germany, as the cheesy musical goes.
Spring, when a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love.
Spring, the squiggly thing that obeys Young's Law.
Spring, the kind of roll they serve at very angmoh-ified Chinese restaurants.
Spring, the action with which you disarm a trap meant to either entangle your lower appendages or used as humour devices in the old Warner Brothers cartoons.
Spring, the onions I rarely ever know what to do with, also confused with shallots.
Spring, an emergence of subterranean water in a relatively constant manner and quality, often bottled to make overpriced tasteless beverages of a very French variety.
Spring, a vale from which I often get roast pork from and eat food in a marine mammal (read: Walrus) restaurant.
Spring, the time where the weather becomes fickle enough that it's too warm to be wearing full length pants but cold enough to freeze off your gonads.
Spring, when MY fancy turns to thoughts of a tiresome existence as a corporate lackey if I keep on this path I'm on.
