Sunday, February 26, 2006
Sunday Funnies
Chris let me borrow his camera so I could snap a little sommin' sommin' for Self-portrait Sunday. I couldn't not play just because I'm on vacation.. This was taken in the lounge at the Fine Arts Building at BU while waiting for 4.48 Psychosis (directed by the talented and brilliant Bridget O'Leary) to wrap.
I'm all happy and smiley because I'm indoors and away from the biting Boston cold. I will never say anything about the Oklahoma cold ever again. Or, you know, until next winter - whichever comes first.
I'm all happy and smiley because I'm indoors and away from the biting Boston cold. I will never say anything about the Oklahoma cold ever again. Or, you know, until next winter - whichever comes first.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Fondue forks for everybody!
I now have in my possession a shiny new fondue pot. And it is fantastic! I LUFF it (with two f's)! So happy! Thank you, THANK YOU! If'n you ever get a hankerin' for an ooey gooey fondue feast, just let us know!
The Mystery Gift
Reason 46 for why you should never tell your mother you have a blog: She will read it, all of it, even the comments, and then she will use it against you when your gifts arrive.
The lil ol' present Katie and Rickus carefully picked out and ordered for my birthday has arrived at my house. I know this because my mother called to let me know a package appeared on the front porch and she wanted to know if I was expecting some mysterious something-or-other from Smartbargains.com. In Kentucky. "As a matter of fact," I say, "I AM expecting a birthday something-or-other from Rick and Katie." "Well," she replies, "it's here." And then adds, "I wonder if Maya should be climbing on it." I suggested that she open it up to see if it is breakable. The call ends.
A few minutes later, she calls back. She's opened it and has now called to initiate the taunting. Without saying hello, she bursts into song: You are gonna love it! You are gonna love it! And like a dope I ask her how she knows (yes, my memory is THAT poor). She says, "Because I opened it - like you told me to. Sooo I know what it is! Neener neener neener!" This is done with much laughter and jumping up and down. The call ends.
I call back to ask where the box was from (I told you my memory was poor). She thinks this is some weird trick to try to get her to slip up and reveal the smallest of small hints about the package. Eventually, I'm able to convince her that I really just want to know because I had started an email to Katie and when I reached the part where I was told where the box hailed from, I couldn't remember what she had said. She tells me again and I thank her. She asks if I want a hint, and before I can say anything, we end up playing a bastardized version of Blues Clues, which happens to be on Noggin at the time I called. She gives me three clues, but just three because that's all you get on Blues Clues:
1. It has no color (because that's what it says on the packing slip)
2. It has 30 pieces
3. It's a three in one
She follows up by saying, "You'll NEVER guess." And she's right. I can't imagine what has no color, thirty pieces, and is a three-in-one. The call ends, but not before Maya gets on the phone. I try to get her to tell me something, anything, that may shed some light on the mysterious package sitting in the living room. Purple was all I could get out of her before she kissed the phone and handed it back to my Mom. This was not helpful as purple is definitely a color. I hang up, disheartened that I am nowhere near my thinking couch.
So, I call Rick to happily report that their gift had arrived and, you know, to generally disrupt his day. The longer I jabber on incoherently about this colorless, three-in-one gift and the silly exhange I had with my Mom, the more Rick doubts that this was in fact THE present, until finally he tells me it didn't sound like their gift at all. Rick gets paged and the call ends.
Rick calls back. He's talked to my mother. It turns out, the strange colorless, three-in-one object is in fact my birthday present, though he's a bit confused about the whole three-in-one thing. Whew! I can't WAIT to see what it is. I just know I'll love it.
The lil ol' present Katie and Rickus carefully picked out and ordered for my birthday has arrived at my house. I know this because my mother called to let me know a package appeared on the front porch and she wanted to know if I was expecting some mysterious something-or-other from Smartbargains.com. In Kentucky. "As a matter of fact," I say, "I AM expecting a birthday something-or-other from Rick and Katie." "Well," she replies, "it's here." And then adds, "I wonder if Maya should be climbing on it." I suggested that she open it up to see if it is breakable. The call ends.
A few minutes later, she calls back. She's opened it and has now called to initiate the taunting. Without saying hello, she bursts into song: You are gonna love it! You are gonna love it! And like a dope I ask her how she knows (yes, my memory is THAT poor). She says, "Because I opened it - like you told me to. Sooo I know what it is! Neener neener neener!" This is done with much laughter and jumping up and down. The call ends.
I call back to ask where the box was from (I told you my memory was poor). She thinks this is some weird trick to try to get her to slip up and reveal the smallest of small hints about the package. Eventually, I'm able to convince her that I really just want to know because I had started an email to Katie and when I reached the part where I was told where the box hailed from, I couldn't remember what she had said. She tells me again and I thank her. She asks if I want a hint, and before I can say anything, we end up playing a bastardized version of Blues Clues, which happens to be on Noggin at the time I called. She gives me three clues, but just three because that's all you get on Blues Clues:
1. It has no color (because that's what it says on the packing slip)
2. It has 30 pieces
3. It's a three in one
She follows up by saying, "You'll NEVER guess." And she's right. I can't imagine what has no color, thirty pieces, and is a three-in-one. The call ends, but not before Maya gets on the phone. I try to get her to tell me something, anything, that may shed some light on the mysterious package sitting in the living room. Purple was all I could get out of her before she kissed the phone and handed it back to my Mom. This was not helpful as purple is definitely a color. I hang up, disheartened that I am nowhere near my thinking couch.
So, I call Rick to happily report that their gift had arrived and, you know, to generally disrupt his day. The longer I jabber on incoherently about this colorless, three-in-one gift and the silly exhange I had with my Mom, the more Rick doubts that this was in fact THE present, until finally he tells me it didn't sound like their gift at all. Rick gets paged and the call ends.
Rick calls back. He's talked to my mother. It turns out, the strange colorless, three-in-one object is in fact my birthday present, though he's a bit confused about the whole three-in-one thing. Whew! I can't WAIT to see what it is. I just know I'll love it.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Happy happy joy joy!
Yesterday, I received an early birthday present from my Mom. She has more or less been taunting me with it since I flipped our Dora the Explorer calendar over to February (Un corazon para ti!), asking DAILY if I'd like to have my gift. My family (okay, maybe it's just me and my mother) has this wacky inability to hang on to gifts until the day they are actually supposed to be given. The pestering starts almost immediately after the purchase. "Hey, I bought your Christmas/birthday/anniversary/insert special occasion here gift. Do you want it? Okay, well, do you at least want a hint...?" This is why I wait until the absolute last minute to pick up gifts. Trust me. It's better this way.
Last night I finally caved under all the pressure. I bundled up and made the two-minute drive over to Mom's to see what all the fuss was about. I made small talk, asking about her new vase and admiring her new bedspread - anything to make me appear less interested in the gift, all the while subtly scanning the house for anything suspiciously gift-like. This was a silly game considering that my mother had just invited me over specifically to retrieve my birthday gift.
A few minutes later, she presented me with this in red. And with five pieces instead of four. I can't wait to take 'em traveling. Luckily, I won't have to since our trip to Boston is in four days. Four, I tell ya!
Thanks tremendously for the early gift, Mom! I heart my new luggage oh so very much!
Last night I finally caved under all the pressure. I bundled up and made the two-minute drive over to Mom's to see what all the fuss was about. I made small talk, asking about her new vase and admiring her new bedspread - anything to make me appear less interested in the gift, all the while subtly scanning the house for anything suspiciously gift-like. This was a silly game considering that my mother had just invited me over specifically to retrieve my birthday gift.
A few minutes later, she presented me with this in red. And with five pieces instead of four. I can't wait to take 'em traveling. Luckily, I won't have to since our trip to Boston is in four days. Four, I tell ya!
Thanks tremendously for the early gift, Mom! I heart my new luggage oh so very much!
Monday, February 20, 2006
Flowers are the smelliest
Anytime Maya sees a flower, even artificial ones, she'll bend down, smell it, and then blissfully sigh. So, when I noticed her eyeing the tulips as she circled the dining room table, I lifted her up so she could breathe them in (because obviously it was more sensible for me to take her to the flowers than to bring the flowers down to her). Once on the table, she predictably grabbed for the nearest tulip and pressed it to her face. What I didn't expect was for her to then lean over and lick the flowers. This is why you should always always carry a camera with you wherever you go. You just never know when your 21 month old will start tonguing tulips.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Girl on film
Justin gave me a beautiful basket of tulips for Valentine's Day. All week long I have taken pictures of my flowers -- as a group, individually, inside, outside, from underneath, above, with little girl, with the cat -- so, I thought it was only fitting for me to include the tulips in my self-portrait as well.
This evening I left the house for the first time in two days. Every Sunday, the local Subway offers two footlong subs for $7.99. I usually start craving one in the late afternoon each and every week. It's been too f*cking cold to so much as look outside, let alone actually venture out into it. Apparently, I will brave the sissy, Oklahoma cold with the proper motivation.
When I wasn't snapping pseudo-artsy pictures of my flowers or bitching about the cold, I was curled up in the corner of our couch with Maya. She has been a fountain of snot since Friday evening, and she greeted the day Saturday morning with a cough and fever. She seems to be doing much better today, though. Earlier this evening, I even caught her making an effort to chase the cat, a definite sign she is on the mend. Get well soon, little miss.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
My Valentine
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Here's where the story ends
The first test of the morning was simply finding exactly where it was that I was supposed to be at 9AM. The emergency room was not where my brain last left it, so my original instruction to enter at the emergency room and walk straight back to the elevators was of little use. Armed with a new set of directions, I bumbled my way up to the second floor, announced my presence at the front desk, was fitted for an outpatient bracelet, and hunkered down in a chair next to Justin to wait - something I would be doing an awful lot of that morning.
I was called back for the mammogram around 9:30. I changed into a hospital gown and was given a questionnaire for busy work while the tech situated the machine that would soon be mashing my breast. Two uncomfortable squishes later, I found myself in a little room the size of a closet while the films were taken to be read.
The tech returned and announced that the doctor thinks the lumpy-something is benign (yea!), but wants an ultrasound, you know, to be sure. So, I was shuffled to a smallish waiting room while the ultrasound tech readied herself. I've found it is more difficult to be upset or worry while singing silly children's songs, so I did the sensible thing and started singing. Quietly. I made it completely through all fifty nifty united states alphabetically, BINGO, the alphabet song, Boots!, Monster Boogie, and several Sesame Street Songs before Kelly the ultrasound tech finally came to fetch me.
I spent the next fifteen minutes or so on my back, squinting up at a monitor in a feeble attempt to make something, anything, of the images from the ultrasound. Periodically, I would glance over at Kelly for the smallest indication of how things were going, but she betrayed nothing. Eventually, she covered me back up and handed me a towel to wipe off all the blue goop. She gave me permission to get dressed and then disappeared to consult with the radiologist. So, I dressed and waited. And waited some more. I read every readable thing that was visible at least twice and tried not to put too much thought into the signed picture of Laura and George Bush neatly pinned to her bulletin board.
Finally, the doctor came in, plopped down in a chair across from me, smiled, and introduced herself as Dr. Aerosmith. I smiled. She smiled back and promptly told me she didn't see anything scary. Things sort of became a foggy haze of relief after that. But, the gist of it was that the lumpy-something was just some dense tissue. No worries. Go see my doctor if something develops. And with that, the whole breast-smooshing, film-reading, diagnostic extravaganza was over.
Happy Valentine's Day to me! It's benign!
I was called back for the mammogram around 9:30. I changed into a hospital gown and was given a questionnaire for busy work while the tech situated the machine that would soon be mashing my breast. Two uncomfortable squishes later, I found myself in a little room the size of a closet while the films were taken to be read.
The tech returned and announced that the doctor thinks the lumpy-something is benign (yea!), but wants an ultrasound, you know, to be sure. So, I was shuffled to a smallish waiting room while the ultrasound tech readied herself. I've found it is more difficult to be upset or worry while singing silly children's songs, so I did the sensible thing and started singing. Quietly. I made it completely through all fifty nifty united states alphabetically, BINGO, the alphabet song, Boots!, Monster Boogie, and several Sesame Street Songs before Kelly the ultrasound tech finally came to fetch me.
I spent the next fifteen minutes or so on my back, squinting up at a monitor in a feeble attempt to make something, anything, of the images from the ultrasound. Periodically, I would glance over at Kelly for the smallest indication of how things were going, but she betrayed nothing. Eventually, she covered me back up and handed me a towel to wipe off all the blue goop. She gave me permission to get dressed and then disappeared to consult with the radiologist. So, I dressed and waited. And waited some more. I read every readable thing that was visible at least twice and tried not to put too much thought into the signed picture of Laura and George Bush neatly pinned to her bulletin board.
Finally, the doctor came in, plopped down in a chair across from me, smiled, and introduced herself as Dr. Aerosmith. I smiled. She smiled back and promptly told me she didn't see anything scary. Things sort of became a foggy haze of relief after that. But, the gist of it was that the lumpy-something was just some dense tissue. No worries. Go see my doctor if something develops. And with that, the whole breast-smooshing, film-reading, diagnostic extravaganza was over.
Happy Valentine's Day to me! It's benign!
Monday, February 13, 2006
Stop this brain, I want to get off
I've been having one of those days where I know I should absolutely be doing something other than what I am doing, but can't for the life of me remember what it was. I'm nearly positive it was work related. Though, even if I did manage to remember what it is that is really supposed to be occupying my time, I'd be far too distracted to do anything about it. This is a shame, because I'd honestly like to be doing almost anything else. Anything other than sitting in a festering pool of worry thinking about my mammogram.
I'm having a mammogram tomorrow morning. I think if I say it enough it will somehow dull the fact that I am actually, you know, having a mammogram. In the morning. Now, the doctor didn't appear overly concerned about my lumpy-something and seems to be doing this primarily as a precaution. My friends have all concurred and have assured me that I shouldn't worry, either. It's no. big. deal. But worrying is in my blood (I come from a long line of prolific worriers), so that has definitely been easier said than done.
I'm worried and I'm a little angry. I am angry that I'm going for a diagnostic mammogram at 27. I'm angry that I've allowed myself to ever entertain any of the terrible thoughts I have over the last three weeks. I'm angry at the time I waste. I'm angry that despite recognizing how brief life truly is, I'm not likely to change anytime soon. And I'm angry for bothering with all this worry before receiving a diagnosis or given any indication that I really have something to worry about.
Hopefully, it won't take a ridiculous amount of time for the whole breast-smooshing, film-reading, diagnostic extravaganza. I'm past ready to be told I've been worried for nothing.
I'm having a mammogram tomorrow morning. I think if I say it enough it will somehow dull the fact that I am actually, you know, having a mammogram. In the morning. Now, the doctor didn't appear overly concerned about my lumpy-something and seems to be doing this primarily as a precaution. My friends have all concurred and have assured me that I shouldn't worry, either. It's no. big. deal. But worrying is in my blood (I come from a long line of prolific worriers), so that has definitely been easier said than done.
I'm worried and I'm a little angry. I am angry that I'm going for a diagnostic mammogram at 27. I'm angry that I've allowed myself to ever entertain any of the terrible thoughts I have over the last three weeks. I'm angry at the time I waste. I'm angry that despite recognizing how brief life truly is, I'm not likely to change anytime soon. And I'm angry for bothering with all this worry before receiving a diagnosis or given any indication that I really have something to worry about.
Hopefully, it won't take a ridiculous amount of time for the whole breast-smooshing, film-reading, diagnostic extravaganza. I'm past ready to be told I've been worried for nothing.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Sundays are for Sleepy Sleepertons
Maya woke up this morning at 6:22AM, completely ready to face the day. I tried to impress upon her yet again the absolute utter wrongness of EVER getting up before the sun. She just laughed and asked for some juice. So, here am I, camped out on the couch trying to visualize sleep with an episode of 'Backpack' blaring in the living room.
I was finally able to sneak in a snooze around noon. All in all, a very productive Sunday.
All the requests for Krispy Kreme donuts that I have sent telepathically to my mother have been a miserable failure. So, this evening I finally went to the store myself and purchased an assortment of Krispy Kreme cake donuts for $3...something. Sure, it's a bit much for six donuts, but it's Krispy Kreme, dang it... and I've been out of my stuffed pretzels for two weeks.
Well, here's to getting to sleep in tomorrow until the late hour of 7AM.
I was finally able to sneak in a snooze around noon. All in all, a very productive Sunday.
All the requests for Krispy Kreme donuts that I have sent telepathically to my mother have been a miserable failure. So, this evening I finally went to the store myself and purchased an assortment of Krispy Kreme cake donuts for $3...something. Sure, it's a bit much for six donuts, but it's Krispy Kreme, dang it... and I've been out of my stuffed pretzels for two weeks.
Well, here's to getting to sleep in tomorrow until the late hour of 7AM.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
A Birthday Tribute to Bridget
Today is my dear friend Bridget's birthday. Since I am a horrid person and didn't get her gifties* in time (it wasn't entirely my fault -- Ani DiFranco refused to cooperate), I have decided to sloganize her for a birthday tribute:
Happy birthday, Bridget! I promise to give you a proper gift in person later this month.
*lovingly borrowed from Lucky Spinster
- Behold the Power of Bridget.
- 151 Countries, One Bridget.
- Whatever You're Into, Get into Bridget.
- Wait Til We Get Our Bridget On You.
- A Day Without Bridget is Like A Day Without Sunshine.
- Give That Man a Bridget.
Happy birthday, Bridget! I promise to give you a proper gift in person later this month.
*lovingly borrowed from Lucky Spinster
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Went to the doctor and guess what he told me..
You know how when faced with an outcome you're not particularly comfortable with, you start to play stupid games like 'okay, I'll wait and not say anything while he's doing the breast exam to see if HE finds anything, and if he doesn't, then it's probably nothing'? Well, yeah, I did that yesterday during my appointment, because God knows THAT would be a perfect time to put my doctor to the test. So I didn't say a word. I just held my breath as my doctor completed the breast exam and then slowly exhaled as he moved on to the pelvic exam (FYI: speculums are of the devil).
At the end when we're sitting there and he's telling me everything looks fine and I'm doing good, I go ahead and tell on myself. "Hey, um, I don't do breast exams very often, so I don't know what's normal (nervous laugh) and what's not, but, well, I found something, or THINK maybe I've found something, right here (mashes on breast) and I was wondering if it was anything...?" He presses on it, sits back, and says that he thinks it's just fibrous tissue (comforting) and isn't really anything to worry about (more comforting) BUT (and this is where I start to get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and my mind screams: But?? BUT!?! What But?! There is absolutely NO room for any buts in this conversation WHAT.SO.EVER!) let's schedule you for a mammogram and maybe an ultrasound JUST to be sure.
And so, that's what I did. I got dressed, checked out, paid my co-pay, and was scheduled for a diagnostic mammogram for February 14 at 9AM. I'm so excited, I don't know how I can possibly stand it. This is going to be the best Valentine's day evah, I just know it!
At the end when we're sitting there and he's telling me everything looks fine and I'm doing good, I go ahead and tell on myself. "Hey, um, I don't do breast exams very often, so I don't know what's normal (nervous laugh) and what's not, but, well, I found something, or THINK maybe I've found something, right here (mashes on breast) and I was wondering if it was anything...?" He presses on it, sits back, and says that he thinks it's just fibrous tissue (comforting) and isn't really anything to worry about (more comforting) BUT (and this is where I start to get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and my mind screams: But?? BUT!?! What But?! There is absolutely NO room for any buts in this conversation WHAT.SO.EVER!) let's schedule you for a mammogram and maybe an ultrasound JUST to be sure.
And so, that's what I did. I got dressed, checked out, paid my co-pay, and was scheduled for a diagnostic mammogram for February 14 at 9AM. I'm so excited, I don't know how I can possibly stand it. This is going to be the best Valentine's day evah, I just know it!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Today is the tomorrow I worried about three weeks ago
Staying up until midnight to watch movies seems like an okay idea -- at the time you're sitting all zombie-like in front of your television watching the pretty moving pictures. The full stupidity of your actions doesn't hit you until the next morning when the alarm angrily yells for you to get up already, ya lazy bum. Eventually, you comply by rolling clumsily out of bed and wandering blurry-eyed in the direction you HOPE leads to the bathroom.
In the end, I have to believe that Wallace & Gromit were worth the sleep loss. Just Like Heaven , though cute in that cutesy way you expect romantic comedies to be, would not have warranted the late hour on its own, no matter HOW much of a hottie Mark Ruffalo is. Curse of the Were-Rabbit was a smashing fun romp. Two enthusiastic bunny ears up. Easily my choice for Best Animated Feature. But I'm a biased fan like that.
I've been unusually calm this morning given that the day of my doctor's appointment has FINALLY arrived. I think it's because by the end of the day I will have some sort of resolution. And because I'm too tired for the part of my brain that worries to function properly. Thanks, Wallace and Gromit! I expect my stomach will start working its way into a tight knot at some point during the drive over to Bartlesville. If not sooner.
[Edit: I don't enjoy doctoring, and I hate yearly physical exams with a white hot passion, so I would expect my stomach to knot at some point during the day even without the presence of a lumpy-something. I'm fine. Everything is fine. Really.]
In the end, I have to believe that Wallace & Gromit were worth the sleep loss. Just Like Heaven , though cute in that cutesy way you expect romantic comedies to be, would not have warranted the late hour on its own, no matter HOW much of a hottie Mark Ruffalo is. Curse of the Were-Rabbit was a smashing fun romp. Two enthusiastic bunny ears up. Easily my choice for Best Animated Feature. But I'm a biased fan like that.
I've been unusually calm this morning given that the day of my doctor's appointment has FINALLY arrived. I think it's because by the end of the day I will have some sort of resolution. And because I'm too tired for the part of my brain that worries to function properly. Thanks, Wallace and Gromit! I expect my stomach will start working its way into a tight knot at some point during the drive over to Bartlesville. If not sooner.
[Edit: I don't enjoy doctoring, and I hate yearly physical exams with a white hot passion, so I would expect my stomach to knot at some point during the day even without the presence of a lumpy-something. I'm fine. Everything is fine. Really.]
Monday, February 06, 2006
27 Days 4:43:01 and counting
I WILL see all five films nominated for Best Motion Picture before March 5th. This has become my mantra since the nominees were announced by Academy President Sid Ganis and Mira Sorvino bright and early on January 31. I am convinced that if I repeat this verbal formula to myself, and anyone else that will listen, frequently enough then it will somehow make it true.
It is always my intention to at least watch the nominees for best picture (because, let's face it, trying to watch all the films nominated in each category, while fun, would just be a bit obnoxious) prior to the broadcast each year. I think four (in 2001) was the most my intentions and I have ever managed. Consequently, 2001 was the year that nearly ended my long career as an Oscar enthusiast (Seriously. Gladiator? Tommy Lee Jones' win for his performance in The Fugitive was hard enough, but Gladiator?)
This year, I have my mantra, a willing husband, and two films (Brokeback Mountain and Crash) already under my belt. It also helps that I am genuinely interested in all the movies singled out by the Academy this year for best picture. And my gawd, the fantastic smattering of independent films! Maybe I can sneak in a viewing of Transamerica for good measure..
So, 27 days to watch Capote, Good Night and Good Luck, and Munich. That's doable. Right?
It is always my intention to at least watch the nominees for best picture (because, let's face it, trying to watch all the films nominated in each category, while fun, would just be a bit obnoxious) prior to the broadcast each year. I think four (in 2001) was the most my intentions and I have ever managed. Consequently, 2001 was the year that nearly ended my long career as an Oscar enthusiast (Seriously. Gladiator? Tommy Lee Jones' win for his performance in The Fugitive was hard enough, but Gladiator?)
This year, I have my mantra, a willing husband, and two films (Brokeback Mountain and Crash) already under my belt. It also helps that I am genuinely interested in all the movies singled out by the Academy this year for best picture. And my gawd, the fantastic smattering of independent films! Maybe I can sneak in a viewing of Transamerica for good measure..
So, 27 days to watch Capote, Good Night and Good Luck, and Munich. That's doable. Right?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Self-portrait Sunday
Friday, February 03, 2006
On rhubarb pie
"So, what exactly is rhubarb, anyway?"
"It's like celery, but tart. It's a tart celery."
"Tart celery does not good celery make."
"It's like celery, but tart. It's a tart celery."
"Tart celery does not good celery make."
Making a joyful noise unto myself
Apparently, I am incapable of being in the shower without singing. It is never something I set out to do. It just sort of happens. A lot. It is completely involuntary, the songs are surprisingly random, and it usually happens when I'm shampooing my hair.
This morning I managed to make it half way through the chorus of Kung Fu Fighting before I realized what the hell I was doing. Frankly, it WAS a little bit frightening. Especially since I don't even like that song.
This morning I managed to make it half way through the chorus of Kung Fu Fighting before I realized what the hell I was doing. Frankly, it WAS a little bit frightening. Especially since I don't even like that song.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Who needs Punxsutawney Phil?
