I applied one of those new Blogger templates. And the McSubdivision I built in had people camping out overnight just to buy a lot to build on. One girl already has a house here but is buying another with one of those things bigger than a yarden, what do you call them, oh yeah... grassy yards. So wait a minute. Does this mean I actualy invested in something of monetary value? I might actually have one of those neato ROI's I've heard about? Wow. This never happens to me. Oh, and I had pizza last night, too. So, life appears decent. And something should explode right about... now.
Tomorrow's headline: "Island Bubdivisions Built Upon Sinking Sands of Ancient Burial Grounds. Expect Poltergeists." Ron says* "no...'Mud Island Homes Built on Huge Pile of Radon."
Fine. Give me my normalcy back.
Speaking of backs, 9 out of 10 doctors say I tore a disk in my back. My advice to you is "Don't do that. It hurts." Oh and one of my legs is shorter than the other. You'd think someone would've told me that before now. There it was on the x-ray. I saw it last time I had that Unfortunate Underwire Bra X-Ray. I was hoping to see a set of 24K gold keys lodged in my back by the Lumbar Fairy instead. But you know me and my luck. It's an acquired taste.
Radioactivity. Maybe that explains the shortened leg and ripping back problems.
Did I tell you I started making merlot wine in my closet? No, really. I'll keep you posted on this delicate prison punch.
I'm sorry. I didn't really have anything to say, so go. Get out there and have a good weekend, people.
*Hey! Ron's back -- long live Pimpdaddy Ron, best husband everrr. Welfare, ha says... His radioactive butt better be jive talkin'...