(no subject)
Dear John Barrowman, you'd make a good Joseph (technicolor dreamcoat) I think. Also, thank you for not attempting to sing phantom. I would have cried and laughed and probably choked on my own tongue. Deb is right. You are velveeta. Possibly cheeze whiz. On top of ham. With sparklers stuck into the ham. ...yeah, it's that bad. (For those who want to know, he is an actor who likes to sing, so he sings musicals and the like, then sells the results.)
Dear body, sleep is a good thing. I'm not sure why you don't seem to feel it is, but I promise it's good. Even if you wake up with Baxter's teeth up your nose. (Baxter is my cat, for those who want to know, and he has an odd notion of 'cuddling'.) Cause, seriously, I'm going through an all systems zorch right now. Everything itches, my limbs feel funky and prickly and I generally feel like my body doesn't fit on me. Lack of sleep does weird things to you. And I hate using pills to sleep, but I might have to.
Dear world, I think we need to move to an eight day week. The day between Saturday and Sunday, naturally, would be part of the weekend. Three day weekends for everyone, unless you work retail and then you're just screwed. I propose this day be called Sluffday or something similar. Keeping with the S theme on weekends. Because I feel like a drooling mess right now and could use another day off.
Dear people drawing lines in the sand over games, I like you. People like you assure me that all is right in my life, just because, by comparison, yours is such a flaming mess that the game means more to you than anything else. Rock on.
In other news, miso soup is a miracle food, 3 muskateer bars in the freezer are brilliant and I get to visit the family at the end of the month. I also got a new car. I want to name it Blueberry.