I've only got 19 minutes until my weekly staff meeting, and ever-efficient blogger.com just ate up 3 of those logging me in, so I'm gunna have to cut to the chase:
In likely retaliation for smashing B in the face last week (which I continue to profess as accidental) I took a "wayward" racquetball to the chestal area last night which left me not only breathless but also with a beautiful donut... not of the Dunkin' variety.
Ever since the smashing, I've had Take My Breath Away stuck in my head. I'm not sure which of the two conditions is more painful, but needless to say, I won't be wearing any V-neck shirts for a while.
I'm thinking that between the requisite turtlenecks to hide my racquetball badge of honor and all the pretty scarves/hats I'll be donning to hide the toxic-Crayola-accident that is my head, that I might as well just trade my sportscar in for a horse-drawn buggy, start churning my own butter, and move to Pennsylvania.
(Unlike the chick in the photo --clearly, NOT me-- who can wear whatever the hell she wants and chooses purple starred stockings, baby blue pumps, and a French Hulk Manicure topped off by an orange bra? Then she chose an eclair over a vanilla coconut donut?!? Tsk tsk tsk. People never cease to disappoint).