I haven’t gotten over whatever stupid stomach bug plagued me over the weekend and past week, so I apologize for being a slack-ass.  It’s taken every fiber of my being just to get up and go to work.  So no Bloggorrhea (which may be a good thing) because I’m been busy dealing with belly issues.

One would think that with all of this, ahem, purging, I’d be rail-thin.  No such luck.  Fucking Booze Belly is still there!

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Speaking of stomach issues, if I ever need to lose my appetite, I just need to watch Restaurant Impossible.  Some of those places are so disgusting in the “before” stage, I question my wisdom when I go to a restaurant.  It’s a fucking wonder that I eat anything anymore.  Ugh.

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I got a text from the non-BF today.  He was redoing his work office and sent me photos.  In one of them, I noticed a framed photo on a shelf.  When I asked if it was Mr. Swirly, he responded with “Yes! Yay!”  He won’t know it because he doesn’t read this bullshit, but he doesn’t need to worry about what to get me for Christmas this year.  Or next. That gesture alone is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.  Thank you, non-BF.  This is one of the reasons I dig you so much!

However, if he decides he wants to go to Tiffany & Co and buy me something, I certainly won’t stop him.  I may be sentimental, but I ain’t stupid.

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Wow, I have the hiccups.  I fucking HATE the hiccups.  In fact, I couldn’t even talk on the phone earlier because of it.  I used to put white granulated sugar on my tongue to stop that shit.  Well, hell, I have no sugar, so I tried local honey.  No such luck.  I sound like Forrest Gump.

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New Dog, who is now called Crazy Motherfucker, or Crazy MoFo for short, really is Mr. Swirly reincarnated.  But the Crazies don’t stop at him (or me) – Wormy Kitty is staring at a wall and has been for over an hour.  It’s not like this House of Crazies needs another addition.

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One of the bloggers I follow posted something about Gilbert Godfried reading “Fifty Shades of Grey.” Had to watch the video.  I haven’t laughed that hard in a while (mainly because I tend to vomit when I laugh these days).  I tried to imitate the reading on the phone with a friend earlier and unfortunately, I sounded a little too much like him for my liking.  Her “That was a GREAT imitation!” kind of made me decide not to speak for a few days.

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Is it wrong that I call Wormy Kitty “Stank Ass”?  Or tell Mr. Tail that he has “The Shit Breath”?  OR tell Rainbow to sit his fancy ass down?  Does it make it better that I say it all in a syrupy-sweet voice?  Yeah, I didn’t think so.

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Wormy Kitty is still staring at the wall.  The dogs have all gone to bed and I’m so bored, I may just cut my hair (again).  God help me.  And my hair.

UPDATED:  My mother called me yesterday and told me I left my pills at her house.  Me:  What pills?  My mom:  (in a whisper and a giggle)  Your Crazy Pills. 

Oh shit, she’s reading the blog again!