You're in love with me. What a strange thing to do. What a brave place to be.
So? What are you folks doing this weekend?
Friday comes around again. I've been sick all week: cough-y, scratchy throat, sniffling, runny nose, and slosh-y head – the whole cha-bang.
Verdict? I got a cold.
A cold?? In this 100+ degree weather???
I would seriously suspect me to be on some super-crack had I not known that I do not do crack. I blame my mother, for she is a hippy chick and I am a hippy child. Crack may came through genetically. My father may have something to do with it, but as far as I know, my father is only a periodic alchy.
We could also go with the normal excuse. My dad took the nurse out for lunch while my mom was in labor. My mother tried to find him and fell off the bed, tummy down. And that's why I'm six quarters shy of a dollar.
What? A dollar only has 4 quarters?? I've never heard of anything so irrational!!
God, I can't breathe. I got stuffy nose. Is there a vacuum thing that I can stick in my nose and have it sucks everything out, brain and all? Okay! That's disgusting. I blame the television spots for Pulse and The Descent. The commercials left me disturbing mental images. I'm delirious.
It must be the cold medication.
Would a horse be considered heavy machinery? The cold medicine said I should not operate heavy machinery. Mister Warlock, who is quite HUGE - his back is higher than my head, stepped on my foot yesterday. I moved quick, but not quick enough. Nothing is broken but it's turning into a nice blu-ish-green bruise. The monkey didn't mean to hurt me or anything. He was just trying to push me out of the way so he can get to the neighbor lawn. I could blame it on the neighbor grassy green lawn, but it was too pretty to be blamed upon. So, I'll blame my foot for getting in the Mister's way. Yes, that and the cold medication for the no heavy machinery bit.
I feel like I should be in love. Or something.
I just figured out recently that the minute I put my hand on a Fantasy, I tainted it with Reality, thus, turning it into an Imperfect Fantasy.
And who'd want a Fantasy that is not perfect. It seems pointless, isn't it?
Oh well, just a thought, you know? Beats counting stupid sheep. Talk about sheep, I want to sleep. I'm so sleepy. Oh, how I longed to be in my comfy-comfy bed.
Sleep. It's a new black.
Gorram cold medicine!
Friday comes around again. I've been sick all week: cough-y, scratchy throat, sniffling, runny nose, and slosh-y head – the whole cha-bang.
Verdict? I got a cold.
A cold?? In this 100+ degree weather???
I would seriously suspect me to be on some super-crack had I not known that I do not do crack. I blame my mother, for she is a hippy chick and I am a hippy child. Crack may came through genetically. My father may have something to do with it, but as far as I know, my father is only a periodic alchy.
We could also go with the normal excuse. My dad took the nurse out for lunch while my mom was in labor. My mother tried to find him and fell off the bed, tummy down. And that's why I'm six quarters shy of a dollar.
What? A dollar only has 4 quarters?? I've never heard of anything so irrational!!
God, I can't breathe. I got stuffy nose. Is there a vacuum thing that I can stick in my nose and have it sucks everything out, brain and all? Okay! That's disgusting. I blame the television spots for Pulse and The Descent. The commercials left me disturbing mental images. I'm delirious.
It must be the cold medication.
Would a horse be considered heavy machinery? The cold medicine said I should not operate heavy machinery. Mister Warlock, who is quite HUGE - his back is higher than my head, stepped on my foot yesterday. I moved quick, but not quick enough. Nothing is broken but it's turning into a nice blu-ish-green bruise. The monkey didn't mean to hurt me or anything. He was just trying to push me out of the way so he can get to the neighbor lawn. I could blame it on the neighbor grassy green lawn, but it was too pretty to be blamed upon. So, I'll blame my foot for getting in the Mister's way. Yes, that and the cold medication for the no heavy machinery bit.
I feel like I should be in love. Or something.
I just figured out recently that the minute I put my hand on a Fantasy, I tainted it with Reality, thus, turning it into an Imperfect Fantasy.
And who'd want a Fantasy that is not perfect. It seems pointless, isn't it?
Oh well, just a thought, you know? Beats counting stupid sheep. Talk about sheep, I want to sleep. I'm so sleepy. Oh, how I longed to be in my comfy-comfy bed.
Sleep. It's a new black.
Gorram cold medicine!
posted by Whitney @ 4:58 PM
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