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The Bang Bang Theories

You Might Want to Clean That Thing Up

It’s a sad day when one needs to fear peanut butter. Peanut butter has long been a friend of mine, and now warnings are posted across the Internet to Steer Clear. Peanut butter should never be a foe, somethings just wrong with the world when that happens.

The day started off at the crack of nine, with high hopes of doing Great Things with all that day unfurled at my feet. Here we sit, four hours later, with the only accomplishment of note being that I made some rather salty biscuits and gravy from scratch, ate it anyway, have full bellies and an unquenchable thirst as a result, and am being teased by the allure of an early afternoon nap. Kenny’s succumbed to the siren’s call already and is lightly snoring while he awaits the three o’clock kickoff which signals the start of his Sunday. Well, on a super-cold weekend such as this, what else is there, really, that needs to be accomplished. I may make a start being productive. Maybe.

I’m not sure if my Reader knows this or not, but one of the highlights of my last cruise was meeting my dining companion during the first week of our vacation. The Donna Birdsell was at our table, and to put it mildly I was exuberantly obnoxious about it. She’s a historical romance novelist, and I dubbed her “Just Joan” since she was my very own flesh-and-blood Joan Wilder.
Anyway. To appease my fixation on her life and her career, Just Joan sent me two autographed novels, which I was beyond excited to receive. However, they were received right about the time I had gotten immersed in the Twilight series, and took a backseat for a while. Yesterday I decided that one of Just Joan’s books will be the first book I read for the New Year. I started with Falcon’s Mistress last night. I didn’t get to any heaving bosoms or burning loins or throbbing manhoods yet, but it’s still early on. I hope there’s a little Adult Judy Blume in them.

On to other things. Wednesday night I fought the blizzard and forged my way to my friend Kym’s new pad for a Girls Night In. She has a darling place in Lakewood, cute-ed up beyond belief and I could have moved right on in. Kym might have been afraid it was coming to that, as I stayed until 10:45, going on and on and on about ridiculous things in my life. Kym’s a psychic, and I find myself always looking to her for advice on my life. Not really fair, but that’s the way it is, I guess, when you know someone who might have insights to fixing the mess you’re in, or preventing you from getting into a mess. People want to know things. She and I are working on motivating ourselves to move our lives forward, and are going to have some writing sessions at her place. I’m looking forward to it, Kym always seems to figure out a way to make her life happen the way she wants it to, so maybe some of that will rub off on me.

With the exceptionally cold weather we’ve had, Kenny has been preoccupied with worry about Street Widda. Again, he brought up the “we need to try and catch her” idea. Nope, still no. We don’t need to catch that Wild Cat and acclimate her to indoor living. I did see her in our driveway one evening and she took off like a cat outta hell. The neighbor has her garage door opened a foot or so, I’m assuming to house outdoor critters that need retreat. I hope if she’s thoughtful enough to go to that trouble that there’s also some blankies for curling up in out there, and some food, too. That outdoor livin‘ is all fun & games when you’re chasing birds, catching mice and getting into trash cans, but not so much fun when the snow is blowing up their cat asses.

So there we have another weekend of no gym activity. It’s too effing cold. I think about it, and if they were open later than 1 effing p.m., I’d probably make it over there. But I can’t even think about being productive before two or three. I guess that’ll come back to roost when I’m laying my fatass all over Cabo in March, wishing I had bothered on that snowy cold January weekend to get the fuck up and go to the gym. Ah well. Why do today, what you can put off til another day.

I’m off to bake a cake. We’re having an Inauguration Party at work on Tuesday, have a t.v. lined up to watch history being made and eat snacks. Ladies, get ready to shave your snatches, Tuesday is the last day for Bush.

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