Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Spewing meaningless verbiage into cyberspace for 50 weeks and counting!
I tried to schedule root canal surgery tomorrow, but the dentist is closed on Saturday.
I had the bad foresight to sort all my clean socks, dark and light, and put them away a week ago.
My goats are up to date on their innoculations.
All flights to Gary, Indiana are booked solid, including the ones that change in Albuquerque, Topeka, Duluth, and Detroit.
Amtrak is running on schedule. Go figure.
I tried to drop a cinder block on my foot, but I missed and crushed one of my lawn gnomes.
The weather forecast does not include severe weather of any kind. Sheesh. What happened to March going out like a lion?
The spa could not schedule a full body wax. Their technician got clawed by another client.
The guy at the tattoo parlor is going fishing tomorrow. He says come back Monday, because he is intrigued by the idea of creating an "I Hate Billy Joel" artwork on my derriere.
The Spare says the weather's so nice she doesn't want to go to the shopping mall. Go Figure!
I've exhausted every single possibility. Except one.
Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati.
(Translation: When All Else Fails, Play Dead)
However, I've attempted playing dead before, and I've never fooled my husband. He just puts a Billy Joel CD in the boom box, and up I spring.
I have no choice. Everything has failed, even playing dead.
I have to go to New York City.
See you Monday.
THE MERLIN OF MANHATTAN