Just a bit sick - chesty heady stuff that will eventually dry up, but for now I feel like I have more goo in me than a bag of Oreo Double Stuffs melting in the back window of Mrs. Alexander's station wagon parked at Six Flags over Georgia in July of 1981.
(That is a lot of goo, just in case you can't make yourself go there with me.)
(My Mom just gagged.) (She hates snot.)
(And my sister can't concentrate on the rest of this post because she's thinking about a bag of Oreo Double Stuffs.) (Which is fine because I have absolutely nothing of value to say anyway.)
Anyway, goo isn't life threatening, just vurrah, vurrah inconvenient.
And plus? It doesn't feel good.
And it made me miss Bunco with the girls last night.
Stupid friggin' GOO.
(It's ra-aining, on pro-om niiiight... my head is a me-ess...)
And it's cold and grey and dreary here. Hey, it really IS raining on prom night!
And there's other stuff, but I can't tell you, I'll just use the code we established a long, long time ago and tell you that the kids and I have had a LOT of Spam this week. Do you remember what that's code for?
SPAM. All week long. Until tomorrow.
Yep. Nothing of value. Didn't I tell you?
Tell me something un-gooey and sunshiney about your week (that doesn't look or smell or taste anything like Spam!)