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Paul Goodloe has the jawbone of an ass. The man seriously needs to have it shaved down with a Craftsman sander. It bothers me that I even have opinions about The Weather Channel's meteorologists. This is a sign that I'm aging without a shred of grace. That and my obsession with Law & Order. When I told Todd the other night that I watched Law & Order on a regular basis, he howled with horror and declared me officially old.
My big cushy Sony "Quality Assurance"-style headphones fit iGor. This makes me very happy 'cos the ear buds hurt my mutant ears. I'm listening to my Vampire Mix and preparing to work on the second draft of The Chalice.
I want a hamburger with nothing on it but mayonnaise. I used to eat these luscious sammiches on a regular basis when I was a wee tot. It'd be nice to have one right about now.
One of the animals is suffering from Explosive Flatulence. I swear to the god that, if I get another whiff of this hellish gas, I am going to be stricken blind and then perish soon thereafter. It's making me want to roll around on the floor and screech like Ethel Merman on a helium/LSD combo. Everything is not coming up roses.
The Father Unit has gotten into the habit of calling Aunt Tudi's cell phone if he finds me online. If he continues this poor behaviour, I will be forced to hook up my cell phone charger and insert the charging end into his chocolate whiz-way until he lay dead from the electricity coursing through his body. It will be a slow and uncomfortable demise, greatly resembling my cell phone bill. Amen. He offers to pay his portion of the bill but, really, I'd be rude to let him do that. I'd rather just kill him.
I have been bitten by a flea. Mosquitoes to follow shortly.
My big cushy Sony "Quality Assurance"-style headphones fit iGor. This makes me very happy 'cos the ear buds hurt my mutant ears. I'm listening to my Vampire Mix and preparing to work on the second draft of The Chalice.
I want a hamburger with nothing on it but mayonnaise. I used to eat these luscious sammiches on a regular basis when I was a wee tot. It'd be nice to have one right about now.
One of the animals is suffering from Explosive Flatulence. I swear to the god that, if I get another whiff of this hellish gas, I am going to be stricken blind and then perish soon thereafter. It's making me want to roll around on the floor and screech like Ethel Merman on a helium/LSD combo. Everything is not coming up roses.
The Father Unit has gotten into the habit of calling Aunt Tudi's cell phone if he finds me online. If he continues this poor behaviour, I will be forced to hook up my cell phone charger and insert the charging end into his chocolate whiz-way until he lay dead from the electricity coursing through his body. It will be a slow and uncomfortable demise, greatly resembling my cell phone bill. Amen. He offers to pay his portion of the bill but, really, I'd be rude to let him do that. I'd rather just kill him.
I have been bitten by a flea. Mosquitoes to follow shortly.
