Yes, yes, yes. My devoted following has been checking my blog every day to see if I've anything new and exciting to say.
The good news? I haven't been eaten alive by the dreaded chupacabra.
The bad news? I don't have anything exciting to say. Not that there isn't anything going on, just nothing going on that would be even remotely interesting to anyone who might happen upon this crazy train.
So let's play a game.
I got this from my favorite guilty pleasure (okay, I have one guilty pleasure, contrary to an earlier post in which I claimed not to feel guilty about low-rent tv shows, but this isn't tv, it's someone's blog, so that negates the earlier claim, and why yes, I did go to law school, how did you guess?). This guilty pleasure makes me feel guilty because it's so crass, so rude, so altogether filthy, but it makes me laugh, so I go there daily. She is http://thedailywtf.diaryland.com/ and she is stinkin' hilarious.
Not as funny as some of her past entries but still fun to do is this: Type your name and the word "needs" into the old Google and list your top 5 funniest results.
Ready. Set. GO.
1. Carolyn needs shingles. (I was told once by my doctor that I had shingles, but I think it was just an ingrown hair gone horribly wrong).
2. Carolyn needs support! (Who doesn't? But I especially need support in the form of a brazierre that doesn't look like a viking breastplate or something from the Blondie cartoon.)
3. Carolyn don't need friends. (So not true. I need every last one of my friends, and more that I haven't even met yet. Need, can't do without, must have. See above re: support.)
4. Carolyn needs Aegean and Near Eastern Dendrochronology. (What the EFF? I don't have the slightest clue what that means, but if I ever need it, please just pull the plug, because I'm quite sure it hurts.)
5. Carolyn needs John F. Kennedy Jr. (If this were six years ago, I would've made some comment about His Royal Hotness, but since he's no longer drawing breath on this earth, I shall be respectful and just assume he's resting peacefully with his own Carolyn, and I don't need anyone but my own John.)
Pretty wierd though, huh? John-John and Carolyn, like me and my husband?
I warned you I had nothing exciting to say.