If a man gets sick in the woods and there's no woman around to hear him, does he still whine?
Who knew the ancient Egyptians thought the humble dung beetle was sacred? The Houseguest, that's who. And she was determined to tell me all about it — whether I wanted to hear about it or not.
Despite the innuendo, click-bait title, and juvenile humor, there is a decided lack of porn in this post. Just me being abused by my crappy ISP. Again.
Ever know you've screwed up? Like really bad? Like someone told you to do something and you said yeah, yeah, you would take care of it — and you meant to — but you just didn't get around it because, well, you just didn't? This is one of those times.
So, the Houseguest kept bugging me to mail her early voter ballot to her. Trips to the post office never end well — but what else could I do? So off I went.
This isn't really a review, but more of a lament that I don't have a time machine to go back and warn myself not to buy them.
So, I superglued my hands together. Again. Yeah, that's right — again.
Ever have one skill that you practiced ceaselessly for hours on end until you perfected it? But you never had a chance to use it. That was me — until today.
So, the Trump/Obama adviser who I gave an Uber ride to had to resign. Apparently, she got caught fibbing about a law degree. I know, I know, Trump lies every day and nothing happens, but he's had a lot more practice.
I can't believe I hated naps as a kid. A good nap is worth gold, especially since bosses tend to frown on you taking them. Which is a shame because boy did I need a nap in the worst way at my new job.