Monday night, 7pm. The frozen burritos are no longer frozen and I'm typing a blog entry. Bet you can't guess what I've got my television tuned to? If you guessed reruns of Dr. Quinn Medicine woman you are probably wrong. Yep, it's frozen-rubber-disk sports thingy time again.
Did you have a groovy Thursday? I know, still wiibly-wobbly, timey-wimey...moot.
Conservative yap master Glenn Beck is suggesting that GOP frontrunner Trump is actually a Democratic mole taking Clinton and DNC money to ruin the Republican party and their chances in 2016. How absolutely hilarious were it true? Has he had a stroke or imploded yet? No? Damn the bad luck.
I had another ranting political paragraph composed but I've decided to file thirteen it. Old news for you, and not worth elevating my blood pressure.
Big white dog (It's still Elvis) is really in touch with his wild ancestry. I tried to get him to join in a harmonizing howling duet with his pack leader this morning. He just lay there on the couch, groaned and farted. Way to tame that inner wolf bud...
Well, between a loss of interest, a loss of a topic and a loss by the Blues, I think I'll put this edition to bed.
Thanks for sticking around, even for posts like these...
See you on Monday, peace...
No comments:
Post a Comment