Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Pull the Plug

I am wicked stopped up today. Hmm? Allergies. Yes. Sinus? Check. Does it help Bryan and I worked out in the rain yesterday? Nah. But, God Bless America, the farm looks spectacular.

We were able to cut trees, clean out the smokehouse, haul off trash, brush, old T.V. stand that has sat in my yard for the past 8 months..... Yay! Crossing my fingers, I hope the yard was mowed today. I hear ya, rain yesterday. The lot of people who help me, are fearless. I kind suspect it to be done.

Continuing on to the wicked stopped up issue. Terry and I put on a show of local antics, last night. Dinner, of course, was sushi and Saki. Two things that make me a happy Paula. We went to Intimate Treasures. Found many outfits, shoes, and local fare to feast on with our eyes. We purchased some beautiful hosiery, and fondled said garters.

We revved our engines and took off to Chapman Hwy, and danced around The Disc Exchange. The smell of incense played in our noses, I felt dizzy, bu tin a good way. If we it had been an ice rink, and we were ice dancing, I could have pulled off a triple sow cow...... due to the fact I have righteous sniffles, Terry ended up buying me a packet of tissues with what else? Cowboys on them. Fancy!

Our night ended with a nightcap, that I unfortunately couldn't finish due to the fact my wine didn't taste very good. We blame allergies.

Which brings me to my fine point, Angels. The discussion up for grabs through sniffing, sneezing, and the atrocious fact I couldn't down a glass of Pinot Noir? (GASP!)

If I did meet my skateboarding/farming/lyrical genius/spy/bad-ass monocle wearing boyfriend today? Why!!! Sweetness, we couldn't meet on a park bench and make out for hours as planned. Pray for miracles. My body needs to be healed.

As we all know, he's just on the other side of the cellar door where fate has him unmercifully held until the perfect time.


I am terrified for all humanity. I Will drill it in my head. No carbs. Starts next week. Good thing, Terry asked today. I am already coaching my pitiful frame into not eating ANY CARBS!!!
No alcohol. Nothing sweet. Not even, any fruit. OH MY GOSH. He doesn't know, that my body is on it's way to my premenstrual cycle next week. Hell on wheels. BEEP BEEP!

That's okay. We run tonight. Between now and then, he will read this, and probably be killed instantly by my words.

As I am sure, the lot of you just turned into dust as well. Good luck.

"Southern trees have strange fruit to bear." Billie Holiday

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