Roll Up! Roll Up! Get It While It's Hot, It's Lovely!

Lately, I’ve been too bored to blog. . . too pooped to pop. . . um. . . . too nauseated to navigate? Hu. Yeah. Probably not that last one.

So, back by unpopular demand –

Stream Of Consciousness! And the crowd goes wild! Or just sits there and thinks, “ok.” One or the other. Up to you.

I’m getting a wrinkle. A laugh line to be precise. I suppose that that’s better than a frown line but it’s still a wrinkle. It still smoothes out when I relax my face. Nevertheless, I know it’s there. Waiting. Maybe Botox isn’t so bad. No. No. That’s probably how they sucked in Nicole Kidman and look at her now! Scary. I hate when men get Botox. Hate it. I like a lived in face. Besides, how do I know what you’re saying without facial cues? I don’t. You could be lying through your teeth and, without the appropriate facial expression, I’ll believe you. I’m kind of gullible. I need the cues to know what’s really going on. Maybe that’s why Nicole Kidman hasn’t made a movie in yonks. Because she can’t get the emotion across. Not that she ever really could but that’s a different story. I wish Craig Ferguson would write himself another movie. There, my friends, is a lived in face. Lovely. Or a book. Where’s the next book? Bloody hell, man! Get with the program. I need to quit smoking. I looked into Chantrex (sp?) but that’s not meant for people with a history of “mental illness.” I hate that expression. I want a different one please. How about “batshit”? Or “loopy”? Or “mad as a bag of cats”? That last one is my favorite. It’s so colorful. Imagine if that was the clinical term.

Doctor: Well, Mrs. Jones, we’ve figured out why Mr. Jones sits in his study all day listening to death metal and screaming obscenities at the dog.

Mrs. Jones: Oh, doctor! What a relief. The children were beginning to notice.

Doctor: Yes, yes, Mrs. Jones. We’ll soon have it sorted. The technical term for your husbands’ condition is “Mad As A Bag Of Cats.” It’s quite treatable. Pick up the six prescriptions at the desk on your way out.

Mrs. Jones: (weeping quietly in relief) Oh, thank you, doctor! Thank you!

Ain’t language grand? All languages are pretty. Well, ok, not German but I’m biased. Maybe it’s simply gorgeous but I’m a bitch who can’t let it go. Probably not but it could be. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. It honestly never occurred to me that I would live long enough to get wrinkles. When I think of it like that, I’m almost pleased. Almost. Vanity thy name is Dark Fury. Who knew? Luckily, I’m smart and funny. If I were just a pretty face, I’d be screwed.