I can hear the nasal tones of my people, as I am officially back in the Midwest. I’m at O’Hare airport, and I adore people who call it “O’Hara.” As god is my witness, I’ll never fly Southwest again. (Vomits radish.) (I like Southwest, actually. They’re funny.)
I have an hour before my next plane. Silver bird takes me cross the sky. Just one more hour and I’ll be home and dry.
Sadly, that song enters my head whenever I fly. Who sings that? Gerry Rafferty?
The good news is, there’s a salad vending machine here. It was a perfect healthy place to stop while I looked for a Coke machine.
I took Edsel to daycare for the week. Weekcare. Dexter wasn’t there. I was so hoping he would be. I threw the cats in the freezer. So they stay fresh.
O, just try. Bitz.
I disabled my Facebook for awhile–I was too traumatized by those weird messages I got awhile back from that woman. I asked people to just not IM me, but today as I sat here in Chicago of all places, I got an IM and, shaking, just disabled the whole damn thing. It wasn’t from her, but I hate that whole heart-racing feeling.
If Facebook is how you remember to read me, remember that you can get email alerts every time I post here.
Can anyone out there who does email alerts tell everyone else out there how they do it? I don’t know how you do it. So to speak. Can everyone tell me how they Do It? With photos? Thanks.
y so fekkin pervy.
Before I left today, I spent much time admiring Mr. Sleek, up there. Mr. Sleekstack.
I’ll talk at you from my mother’s computer, which I–
Oh my god. Someone behind me coughs just the way my grandma did. Here I am back in the Midwest, and now I hear grandma. I’m too afraid to see who it is.
Seriously, get the Creamora. Gramma’s here.
Okay, happy Thanksgiving eve. Eve. Talk to you soon.
There was a service puppy in line today, by the way, and here are all my I’m-not-crazy photos I took of him. He wasn’t sad. I think he was looking for things to eat off the floor. Which, sanitary.
Okay, bye for real.