Loading ...In the south, if you’re poor, you got no money. If’n yer poorly, that means yer sick. I’m both. I’m feeling marginally better today, just totally washed out. Brain fulla cotton, tummy fulla frogs. I got no writing done today, not for a lack of trying. It was mostly staring at a blank page. Same goes for tarot readings. I tried, but ended up just staring, but I figure people would rather have a good reading than a fast reading so as soon as I’m feeling better, I’ll catch up on tarot.
Spent the day listening to Project Pitchfork while surfing for hentai. You know, I’ll bet if my clients knew thats how I spend my convalescence, no one would order readings. I’ll bet they’d totally boycott me if they knew I prefer the tentacle stuff.
Which makes me wonder what people think I do all day. Sit around and think spiritual thoughts? Sure, I do that sometimes. But not all goddam day. Especially on Sunday. When I’ve got the flu. The flu is for fuzzy socks, pajamas, and cartoon porn, okay? And Bea agrees. She’s still a bit under the weather too, and she’s been right on my lap all day, watching the cartoon porn flash before her innocent kitten eyes. She keeps licking herself.
I have my first age spot on the back of my hand. Its a bit disturbing. I have gorgeous hands… well.. my left hand is gorgeous. My right hand is gorgeous except for my ever so slightly deformed ring finger. I suppose I should be thankful that the age spot showed up on my deformed claw of a right hand, rather than on my aesthetically superior left hand. But still, yesterday, I had flawless, beautiful skin on the backs of my hands. Today I need Porcelana.
And you would think that anyone old enough to have age spots is too old for cartoon porn.
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This entry was posted on Sunday, November 12th, 2006 at 5:52 pm and is filed under fanatical, phenomenal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
I think you have a winner of a prescription there for this flu season. No siree, we don’t want to hear about Tamiflu or any of that; it’s cartoon porn and fuzzy socks and, for a few, warm laps. THAT’S how you get over feelin’ poorly.