"Do you hear what I hear?"

Turpin: I just want someone to like me for my tits.
Me: I like you for your tits.

Anyan everyone.
Viewing Turpin's blog, and seeing what a busy little animal trainer she has been, makes me feel guilty about not crooning over my own little blog faetus.
You heard me.
Also, the picture of me during my evening of being painted on by the stippers (you'll know the one) always makes me feel like I should be doing something productive with my life.

During our doomed comedy show, the dinner, specifically, Tim mentioned 'The Croup', which is an old person term I haven't heard in eons.
My nan always feared the croup, for all our sakes.

Maybe two weeks ago?
Colin and I are sitting in his room.
Me: "Shit, I think I turned on the shower and left it running."
Our bathtub drains extremely poorly because my hair is thick and obstructive.
Colin: "Well, go check."
Me: "No, no. Then I'd have to get up. Just turn down the TV and listen harder."

Another reason he's alright to live with:
"That's one thing I hates about being older; I don't drink as much as I'd like to."
He owns a hip flask. He intends to fill it with something this weekend.
Likely something with alcohol in it.

I'm thinking of immitating, as closely as I can manage, a cat falling asleep the next time I'm on stage.
Because I think it looks really funny.

Family Guy is crashing and burning. No one will watch it within a year or two.
I stopped watching it a while ago.
It's not funny, everybody.
As you start to accept it, everything just feels better.