PIO is being especially mean to my ass this time around.
I should get Frank to rub my butt so that I can relax.
Oooh! I get to pop a valium tomorrow!
I'm sleepy. Usually I have killer insomnia leading up to transfer, but I've been sleeping like a rock. Escapism, anyone?
My dog is snoring.
I snore when I'm sick. Or pregnant.
Earlier today I realized that next Friday is a day of plenty. The last day of school (for the students) is next Friday. A blogger buddy is flying in to visit with Chance and me next Friday. Jordan's sixth birthday is next Friday. *insert sudden and dramatic piano chords here* BETA is next Friday. I'd like to say that three outta three ain't bad, but I'd rather score on all four counts.
I feel like a total fatty watching The Biggest Loser finale. If I can't rightfully wear maternity clothes this summer, then it's nothing but low-fat, organic air and diet water for me. And Frank's cookies.
What the shit is up with a few people (non IF-ers, I promise. IFers can complain about whatever they want to because, well, I think we've EARNED it) crabbing about maternity clothes and giving up certain activities per doctor's orders until the second trimester? HELLO!!! Are you pregnant? Then shut the fluckashit up. Nothing to bitch about.
GOOD KARMA ———>——–> BAD KARMA
Oh, how I doth love fuzzy bunnies and puppies and rainbows and wish that I could give them to all of my friends and even to people who annoy me, because they need love too!
GOOD KARMA <———-<——— BAD KARMA
*singing* Go, Jeeeerry! It's your birthday! He lost the weight! He won a hundred grand!
(_(_) ~~ (_)_) ~~ (_(_) ~~~ (_)_) <— that's me shakin' mah bootay.
Not really, because mah bootay hurts.
Frank is snoring. Is he pregnant?
Transfer is at 11. I'll be home to update by 5. Feed Reproducina all the beans you can. We are long overdue for rainbow glittler, Skittle-scented farts.