Thursday, August 30, 2007

today's news

Day 30, and Period Watch 2007 commences.

In other thrilling news, I just purchased a forty dollar raffle ticket, which may not sound like a big amount of spondoolies, which it isn't when one looks at the bigger picture, also known as The Stack Of Unpaid Bills On My Desk That Laugh In The Face Of Forty Bucks, Ha HA!, which explains my rationale for tossing more money into the ether for no reason other than I'm an idiot. Granted, that rationale is somewhere in there with "Just one more cigarette and then I'll, quit", a big fat lie we all know leads to the slippery slope to puffing on those fuckers for the rest of your life.


It's for a good cause and more importantly, I have a one in nine chance of winning, y'all. I didn't just blow forty bucks, I invested it.

Spring is just around the corner and with it comes the billions of tiny pollen spores that every year, make their way through the appropriate orifices and take up quarters in my chest, throat and sinuses where, once settled, they begin knitting their yearly quota of fuzzy garments. Yesterday morning saw me waking up with what felt like an Afghan wrapped around my vocal chords, a condition that usually has me sounding gin soaked and interesting. This time though, I'm not unconvinced that I didn't, in fact, turn into a transvestite overnight.

Thank goodness for Spring's redeeming factors, one being that the warmer weather means Daniel's onesies can be tossed aside in favor of the lone and untucked t-shirt. This state of perpetual untuckedness means the t-shirt, unlike the onesie, can be raised and lowered at whim. This, of course, it being all about the boy, allows Mr Deebs easy access to his Bee Bah! whenever and where ever the urge to reacquaint himself with his body parts hits, providing hours of fun and a constant, if questionable, source of entertainment.

bee bah! DSCF1929
hes' been like this since Monday

He'd previously been obsessed with his Shape-O Toy, which I guess explains why I found him earlier today trying to shove the star shape in there. News in: it doesn't fit. Nor does the square, the triangle, the vacuum cleaner (!) or, god help me, his breakfast.

housework experimantal man
behold the manboobs

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