Thursday, July 29, 2010

These Feet Were Made For Talking....

I was hit on the other night while walking. Don't be impressed, the cat call was from little boy teeny boppers in heat and unfortunately with wheels. The only response I could drum up that wouldn't shame the baptist union of which I am employed was, "I'm not impressed by your hormones." I resorted to a cold shoulder and a swift glare. I don't think it'll happen again. I haven't washed clothes in over three weeks. And it only goes down hill from this point. The sock drawer is down to wool or lifesaver multi stripes? For good measure if you find yourself walking in neon green shorts, high water feet sweltering socks and the shirt you wore to work, for the first time in a month you'll meet folks on the road.

I'd love to stick around and further enlighten you to random tidbits and confessions from my life such as I ate an entire bell pepper yesterday and I still haven't rescued any plates from the cardboard. Things like
80 % of my belongings are still wherever they landed on moving day. Or I could tell you I'm finally admitting I have a Tom Hanks crush. Joe Fox settles it, I love Tom. But I am not going to tell you any of that, because I'm going to go eat ice cream and watch Seinfeld.

And to all a good night. Please click here if you want the minutes of your life back you just wasted reading this rousing round of rambling non-essentials. Don't worry I'll be here all week. No I won't, I'll be eating ice cream and thinking about Tom.

Seriously-I'm Finished
Count Your Blessings

162. for sweet readers who actually read my gibberish
163. for warm oatmeal with fresh peaches
164. for green bell peppers
165. for tomorrow being Friday
166. for white horses
167. for second chances

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