I had this whole entry written about how Esteban screwed up a bunch of pork tenderloin last night but I had to flee work with a hella migraine.
So now here I sit, in the dark, listening to the Etoy’s theme song over and over because it sort of makes my head feel better. With no humorous “Esteban shouldn’t be allowed to operate the peppermill unsupervised” entry. Because it’s on one of my pc’s at work.
If you’re disappointed, try humming that Etoys song (Oooooh OOOOOOOOOh Ooooooh). It might make you feel better.
Migraines suck. For all involved.
Dear Owen Meany,
You’ve ruined me for all men.
Weetabix
Dear John Irving,
You’ve ruined me for all authors… except maybe Margaret Atwood.
Oh, and tell me the truth… The Fourth Hand is really just a gigantic shout out to ME, isn’t it. Isn’t it. You can tell me.
Weetabix
Dear McDonald’s
They say that everyone has just a little McDonald’s inside of them.
I think your Diet Coke makes up 15% of my body.
Yup, still your bitch,
Weetabix
