Just a few things I need to say this evening.
If I don’t get back on a proper sleep schedule I am going to be fucked next week.
I don’t give a damn if you don’t want to hear about my Atkins diet.
I’d slap my mommer – twice – for a french fry right now.
The dog is a spoiled brat who should know I am the boss. Dammit.
If I don’t get to tromp in some snow soon I am gonna have a fit.
The cat snores too loud and would make a good stew.
One of my sisters is now, seemingly, a loon.
The former loon sister is quite pleasant. Huh.
I suck at familial communication. I love you. I just never call. Even you, loon.
Why is it so damned hard to find a basic nice slip and generic underwear?!
This whole sinus infection crap is pissing me off. I’m about to make some penicillin on old bread and shove it up there on a q-tip.
OK. I think I’ve about covered my concerns for this evening.
Angst and ridicule brought to you by the Lack O’ Carbs and Acme 72 Hour Pounding Headache.