No, really, that's about all, though you could meander over to bDr's joint for some blog holiday tunes, or you could take a trip back to this month last year, which I just tapped to see what I did for 52, and which, it happens, is pretty fucking representative of this blog and many of the things it stands for--peace, freedom, iconoclasm, hockey, and hating on sports figures and Republicans. Themes I missed that month include soccer and metaphorically buttfucking stupid fucking hippies, but y'know, it was still a pretty good month.
For the curious and the concerned: still coughing, but more energetic and essentially recovering. Not gonna dah.
For that one guy who thinks I haven't said "fuck" enough in this post, and he knows who he fucking is, if he's even fucking reading: Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck FUCK.
For Sasha: Yes. Ghostie. Sorry. Still hard to talk for more than 15 words in a row.
And for Herself: Get the fuck out of bed, go get some fucking eggs, and fucking cook my fucking breakfast. What the fucking fuck, honey?
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The dirtiest limerick in the world - slightly censored
There was a dah dah dah dah dah dah
Who dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
He dah dah dah dah
And dah dah dah dah
Til dah dah dah dah dah dah fuck.
Happy celebrating. No complaints. Having had this particular plague within the past six months, I remember vividly. Ain't antibiotics swell? Seriously?
Also. I admire your courage staring in the face of numbers. I can't stand it myself.
Good on ya'!
Here's my gift to you: re: your motto: if you eat some asparagus you'll piss stinky green excellence!
Have a good one, and many more.
something something, something something, something something glazed.
Working on it.
Looks like you're going to be a faithful watcher of "The View" now, eh? What with their new ex-Bunny blond.
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