veg
Forks? We don’ need no stinking forks.
Dang, y’all are some picky motherfuckers! How I wish my mother were here to read your comments, so she could realize that LOTS of kids have food issues and I was not refusing the lentil soup just to spite her.
I’m Still a Little Out of Breath, But I’ll Be Okay
I am able to admit when I’m wrong. Granted, it tends to be difficult because I’m so out of practice, but it does happen sometimes. And once I get past the shortness of breath and tame my fight-or-flight response, I can own it.
No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn
Tuesday night insomnia: Sour, mineral tang of uncoated pills. Tepid tapwater washes it away. Soothing drone of informercials; snoring dogs. Counting rich mosaic of ceiling cracks.*
A, Always; B, Be; D, Delegating.
Did you think a little agonizing flank pain would keep me away from the Smackdown? WRONG. I powered through, in the form of having Brian do everything while I sat on the couch.
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Smackdown: Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too
I once played footsies with the left. I ended up with scuffed up shoes and a bruised shin, but still no affordable healthcare. (Sorry, I’m watching the Republican debate on CNN.)
Smackdown: Chorizo is the New Bacon is the New Black
I really need to keep a notebook next to the bed. As I’m falling asleep, I always come up with these fabulous insights, zingers and insightful zingers to share with you.