Boot to the head

Yesterday my computer informed me that it was more diseased than a meth head hooker who lets you ride bareback for a fiver. After an all night boot scan, her diseases are in remission and she is running like Usain Bolt.

What does that mean for you? Not a thing except I won't be whining about my computer for a couple of days.

It's raining this morning.

Dexter won't poop anymore. Apparently, the fireworks and thunderstorms have done a number on his psyche and he just decided, nope, never gonna poop again. This should be fun. And messy.


I keep watching that gif instead of writing anything. Miley Swift is a very attractive child.

The other day I saw TGB with watery eyes. Being the sensitive, loving husband I am, I called her a wuss and told her to stop crying. She showed me what she was reading, a blog called This Life I Live. I have spent the better part of the last few days reading it. I have to do it in bits because it makes me feel things. Feelings are gay. Read it at your peril.

I always start getting antsy about now. Her next check-up is looming next month and her cancer-versary is coming up. I can't imagine the noise in her head.

Titty Sprinkles.


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