I missed my Body Pump class tonight because my ovaries are waging war on my kidneys and upright is the most I can hope to achieve this evening; actually I am making my best efforts at a prone position as soon as possible. I was in software training all day today and could feel my head jerking every three minutes. I need to go to bed at eight-thirty.
ALL I WILL SAY IS - Someday I truly hope I start a job where I don't have to be the emergency accountant.
My arm hurts where I tried to iron it yesterday. TOO BAD ABOUT THAT.
I predict I'm about to go through a phase of trashy Star Wars fanfic novels. Le sigh. K19 comes out to bite me in the butt every few years anyway. I really do need to work harder at attaining my former state of pretentious yuppie. First step: Start listening to NPR again.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
ain't no thing like a chicken wing
This is going to be the failblog if I don't kick it up.
I had to attend a Neil Diamond concert last night, because I am sweet-tempered and without vice, and therefore couldn't make someone go alone. It could have been worse; it could have been John Tesh.
My dad keeps telling Mom that she's a bad mother, and I am too old and tired for damage control at this point. I think he told her to move back or he wants a divorce (five years later), so I told her to find a job up here. She and I can get an apartment. WOOOOOOO!
I have chocolate mud mask on my face, and it feels like someone threw a pudding pie at me. SPLUT! as the kids say. Punker is taking adolescent psych this fall; I wonder if we can get retroactive therapy. I will admit that I totally superimposed the Lime Girls on that stage over Neil Diamond.
My child is here. Her tail is in my face. I hope she likes pudding.
I had to attend a Neil Diamond concert last night, because I am sweet-tempered and without vice, and therefore couldn't make someone go alone. It could have been worse; it could have been John Tesh.
My dad keeps telling Mom that she's a bad mother, and I am too old and tired for damage control at this point. I think he told her to move back or he wants a divorce (five years later), so I told her to find a job up here. She and I can get an apartment. WOOOOOOO!
I have chocolate mud mask on my face, and it feels like someone threw a pudding pie at me. SPLUT! as the kids say. Punker is taking adolescent psych this fall; I wonder if we can get retroactive therapy. I will admit that I totally superimposed the Lime Girls on that stage over Neil Diamond.
My child is here. Her tail is in my face. I hope she likes pudding.
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