I FORGOT TO EAT BREAKFAST. About 10 minutes after Sam left for the airport this morning at 7:15 — he went to Phoenix — I realized should have asked him to nuke me a couple of Jimmy Dean biscuit whatnots due to being exceptionally hungry but unable to shlep into the kitchen to do it myself. I’m a handicapped senior citizen. Holy crap. I screwed up.
I WROTE A PLEASANT HOWDYGRAM POST titled “I really want to take a nap after I pee and eat lunch.” It included: 1) a set of three nice photographs of street flooding in Dallas; 2) a full-color PORTRAIT OF AN AMMOSEXUAL — Kory Watkins, official spokesmoron for Open Carry Texas — with an overview of Kory’s ongoing outrageous threats to sentence Texas’ elected officials to death for not agreeing with him; and 3) I think that’s it.
I PEED AND ATE LUNCH. I heated up a couple of Schwan’s teeny individual deep-dish supreme pizzas — SAUSAGE! PEPPERONI! DICED PEPPERS AND ONIONS! CHEESE! EXCELLENT CRUST! — and sprinkled them with above-average Wal-Mart parmesan cheese that’s as good as Kraft but half the price.
I GOT UPSET ABOUT PACKAGES. A jackass at the post office delivered two large boxes today from Wal-Mart that were supposed to be held until next week due to Sam being in Phoenix. I started crying because I’m an old lady with shitty knees who can’t carry boxes into the house AND because we’ve got another 90% chance of heavy rain and thunderstorms again tonight and I don’t want my packages forwarded to Oz in a twister. So I called our handyman, Gary, and asked if he might be able to drive by for a couple of minutes and do something wonderful for me ... AND HE DID! Gary is one of the nicest people we know. He’s also a terrific handyman with an adorable website. (I designed it.)
I HAD A SHITTY NAP. I woke up after 45 restless minutes on the chaise in the family room with nausea and a migraine headache. I have no idea what causes this — and it happens a LOT — but all the symptoms vanish like magic as soon as I sit up! Welcome to the Twilight Zone.
I CONNECTED WITH SAM VIA FACETIME. Tonight he was attending our niece Anna’s ballet recital in downtown Phoenix and decided to check out the aliens and weirdos hanging out nearby in the lobby of the Phoenix Convention Center. It was day two of Comicon, a four-day annual hoo-hah for comic book fanatics.
I guess I don’t get it. I was into comic books when I was a kid but I’m absolutely POSITIVE that I never felt compelled to dress up like Dennis the Menace or write pornographic fan fiction about Richie Rich. What’s wrong with these people?!
I ATE A VERY FORGETTABLE DINNER. Seriously. I had a teeny microwaveable tub of Chef Boyardee mini ravioli (unheated with a teaspoon), one slice of sugar-free lemon pound cake and half a can of room temperature Diet Sunkist orange soda. I also watched “People’s Court” and a cute movie called Meet the Missus (1937) starring Helen Broderick and Victor Moore. (If you think this sounds pathetic, you’d be right.)
I WROTE A PLEASANT HOWDYGRAM POST titled “I really want to take a nap after I pee and eat lunch.” It included: 1) a set of three nice photographs of street flooding in Dallas; 2) a full-color PORTRAIT OF AN AMMOSEXUAL — Kory Watkins, official spokesmoron for Open Carry Texas — with an overview of Kory’s ongoing outrageous threats to sentence Texas’ elected officials to death for not agreeing with him; and 3) I think that’s it.
I PEED AND ATE LUNCH. I heated up a couple of Schwan’s teeny individual deep-dish supreme pizzas — SAUSAGE! PEPPERONI! DICED PEPPERS AND ONIONS! CHEESE! EXCELLENT CRUST! — and sprinkled them with above-average Wal-Mart parmesan cheese that’s as good as Kraft but half the price.
I GOT UPSET ABOUT PACKAGES. A jackass at the post office delivered two large boxes today from Wal-Mart that were supposed to be held until next week due to Sam being in Phoenix. I started crying because I’m an old lady with shitty knees who can’t carry boxes into the house AND because we’ve got another 90% chance of heavy rain and thunderstorms again tonight and I don’t want my packages forwarded to Oz in a twister. So I called our handyman, Gary, and asked if he might be able to drive by for a couple of minutes and do something wonderful for me ... AND HE DID! Gary is one of the nicest people we know. He’s also a terrific handyman with an adorable website. (I designed it.)
I HAD A SHITTY NAP. I woke up after 45 restless minutes on the chaise in the family room with nausea and a migraine headache. I have no idea what causes this — and it happens a LOT — but all the symptoms vanish like magic as soon as I sit up! Welcome to the Twilight Zone.
I CONNECTED WITH SAM VIA FACETIME. Tonight he was attending our niece Anna’s ballet recital in downtown Phoenix and decided to check out the aliens and weirdos hanging out nearby in the lobby of the Phoenix Convention Center. It was day two of Comicon, a four-day annual hoo-hah for comic book fanatics.
I guess I don’t get it. I was into comic books when I was a kid but I’m absolutely POSITIVE that I never felt compelled to dress up like Dennis the Menace or write pornographic fan fiction about Richie Rich. What’s wrong with these people?!
I ATE A VERY FORGETTABLE DINNER. Seriously. I had a teeny microwaveable tub of Chef Boyardee mini ravioli (unheated with a teaspoon), one slice of sugar-free lemon pound cake and half a can of room temperature Diet Sunkist orange soda. I also watched “People’s Court” and a cute movie called Meet the Missus (1937) starring Helen Broderick and Victor Moore. (If you think this sounds pathetic, you’d be right.)
And that’s what I did on Friday because I thought you’d like to know. (You’re welcome.)
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