Some setbacks (not an offset in a wall-the other kind) of an aging body have slowed me down as of recent. But soft, what yonder blows?
My Shakespearean ways have taken over. Prepare yourself!
The quality of mercy be swift and just. Mercy on my feet, pedicures if you must.
If music be the food of love, play on and make it R & B with undertones of sex and feelings of lust.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee, to the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
Parting is such sweet sorrow. Alas, fret not. I am sure I will write more tomorrow.
|You doesn't want to see Eminem erect? Anyone?|
It's a Shakespearean Thug Life. I'm not sure what any of it means except I am snap, crackling, and popping today. I thought I had evened out, moving forward with health and now I have reached one of them thar hills. I suppose this is going to happen now and again because I'm not 25. Dabnagit.
I feel meloncholy. I don't like that word. It has a depressing feeling about it.
I miss Bug. Poo.
It's going to be a long summer. I had better clutter my calendar with tasks to make it go fast.
No time for poo pooing around.
I am scheduled to go to the gym every day. They don't even ask me who I am any more, but recognize me by my last name and pass me through. I told them that was creepy. They told me that was a good thing. It means I use the gym.
I said, "No, it means that I will get moved to Albuquerque."
"Witness Protection Program."
"Pretend you don't know me."
Yeah. They think I'm weird.
The gym people. So serious.