Cough.
Cough cough.
Drew is at Bups's place for night.
Max is at a friend's place for a sleepover.
Clint's been on the phone all evening.
Sniff. Cough.
I've been alternating between watching a "Malcom in the Middle" marathon because I don't know how to change the channel and doing Blog Quizzes while stoned on Sinutab.
Can't say I agree with the results. Scroll down to see what I'm talking about...
French Vanilla? Seems boring. Normal.
Lickable though, so that's a good thing.
The Jane cocktail is probably more accurate than I'd like to admit. That competitive thing is becoming more apparent as I engage in my own real life version of "Apprentice" aka Fundraising. Oi.
(Hey, while I'm on the topic, does anyone want to buy a $100 business card sized ad in LFMS's calendar? )
But that 'sprinkle with fitness' observation is total bs.
Oh my goodness, the road sign of life isn't too promising, is it? My last stop on the journey is love? How far away is 535 in terms of years, I wonder? And where am I at right now? In the Looney Bin, or still on the starting line, dazed and confused?
Think I'll call it a night. All these revelations while half my brain is fogged out can't be a good thing.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving,
Take care
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