My neck hurts and my desk chair is broken. I couldn’t be amusing or cute if you were paying me. (But I would try harder if you were paying me. Do you want my paypal account? Seriously.)
Oh and my dog clearly has an itchy butt. AND SO DO I. I’m pretending that they’re unrelated.
In other news that I CANNOT BELIEVE…
I cannot believe I took this AWESOME picture of my daughter and didn’t share.
I cannot believe that oil is still pouring into the Gulf of Mexico. If you are a poet, a friend tweeted out this awesome site where you can send your work inspired by this catastrophe. Poems are written about so many of the events of our lives and our histories. Poems are about love and loss and death and hope. About wars fought in the battlefield and in our homes. The oil spill may be the worst ecologic disaster of our lifetime. So poetry must be written.
- Top Kill
- BP, Be Me
- Oil Keeps Out The Sun
- The Wells Of My Heart Aren’t Slick
I cannot believe THEY haven’t invented spell check for the REALLY BAD spellers. I just spent three minutes on “catastrophe.” I google one out of every five words because spell check has NO GUESSES. NO GUESSES is one less guess than I have. Someday, I’ll post without using spell check and you will wonder how I ever graduated from the fourth grade. Oh and the guy who like created the spell-check programs DIED. I am so screwed.
The responses are honest, insightful, and daring – kinda like my butt. In fact, if you wish to write a poem about my butt, please let me know in the comments. I will have a site up shortly. You can also write about my broken chair.
Thank you for caring.