I thought you hated spunk?
Natter 71: Someone is wrong on the Internet
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Spunky inferno!
Lou Grant hates spunk, but I guess the folks at my new job dig it.
congratulations Scrappy!
Frank I am glad you are ok. So very sorry about your landlord.
Frank, I am so glad to hear you are safe, and so sad that your landlord was not. I wish you all the best dealing with the practical and emotional fallout of the fire.
Go Scrappy go!
Congrats, Scrappy!
Yesterday my mother and I had an extended discussion about the over-focus on men's sexual function (or the under-focus on women's) and it led to the evolutionary what-if of "what if a woman had to orgasm in order to become pregnant?" I'm taking small breaks from work today to try and think through those ramifications, but it keeps coming back to "you were talking about that with MUMMY???" and I start laughing. We have such a sex-free conversation zone unless it's science, and then we can discuss sex until the cows come.
I tried to extend my minimal exercise--on each of the three days I'm in the office I try and walk down ten flights of stairs twice. The second time I decided to walk up one and then down eleven, and that's clearly too much. It's irritating that I can't significantly increase my heart rate, because EXERCISE. But I'd rather be unfit than have extra days of headaches, so.
Congratulations, Scrappy! But please don't be spunky, or the Mayor may decide to eat you.
Congratulations, Scrappy!
My mother's surgery was this morning. It went very quickly, and it seems to be just one very small tumor, no lymph node involvement, no other problems. Basically, it went about as well as it could go, other than the fact that we all had to get up early.
I do get an oyster po-boy for dinner, though, so there are some compensations.
Oh, that's great news, Dana. I'm so pleased!
The new psychiatrist took my mother off the dementia meds this week, and tweaked her anti-anxiety prescription, and she's now having a meltdown. My poor Dad: she thinks he's her brother, or her grandfather, or who knows what.