...enough to make a weaker woman pull out her hair/ so I sit and drink and play solitaire....
Yeah, Kev, just the usual, thanks.
Color me lazy, or busy, or too fed up to be pleasant, even in print. So here ya go. It's sparse, and I apologize. Perhaps I'll be back to normal by next week, insofar as that phrase ever applies to me.
A cartoon that makes me want to drink, because there is not enough booze in the world to forget the embarrassment of high school. And occasionally, beyond.
Rob Brezsny writes beautifully, still, horoscopes, even his, are funnier when drunk. This week, I'm partial to Pisces and Aries. You didn't think I read only "mine," did you? Silly. Astrology means very little; good writing knocks me out.
Add this guy to my Pathetically Idiotic Over Him pile. Oh, God, I need a drink.
The Animal cracks me up. And beer tastes better in his company.
Somehow, during construction today, I managed to get a sharp, biting little chunk of plywood lodged in my panties.
Couldn't have happened if I'd been wearing jeans tight enough to read the date on the dime in my pocket.
I save those for pool night.
(Drunk On Power, Just Plain Drunk; Pomeroy/Brown)