I really don’t feel good.
I really don't feel good. It has nothing to do with lunch. Lunch was great. EL and I went to MacKenzie's and shared the blackened salmon and pepper encrusted filet mignon. When we were in Denver last week, we discovered this drink where you take a champagne flute and fill the bottom third or so with a nice port then top off the glass with champagne, so a few of those were in order along the ride. We had fresh strawberry garnished tiramisu and crème brulee before some much needed coffee. We managed to squeeze out of there just as our two hour parking meter was about to expire. A wonderful lunch filled with hand holding and intimate conversation was just the break I needed in my day. No, lunch was great. It's not that I feel bad... I just don't feel good. It's like I need to get warm, but I can't. I need to close my eyes and rest them for a minute, but I can't. This could all be remedied by a nap... or better yet, a steaming hot shower and a nap. Yes. A nap.
I know the feeling. I know it well. I don’t feel “right”. Five and a half hours to go...or so. A meeting in 30min. Nope, I don’t feel “right”.
That’s cause you ain’t “right” in the head, boy.
You could be right.
...I may be crazy.
But, you know, it just might be a lunatic you’re lookin’ for.
Shut up, Dirty Dancing girl.
I’m sorry, i’m being mean.
Hmm, let’s weigh this one here:
Dirty Dancing girl
or
Freaky Clown Porn girl
Which is scarier??
And, for the record, you’re not sorry, you dirty bitch.
*sticks tongue out*
I don’t know, I’ve never met any of your family.
ba-dum-bum!
ching!
I knew there was supposed to be a ching.
Humor, my ass. I’m just going to hit you with a wine bottle.
Would you go through the empties there next to your bed and select a nice one for me to use?
I lose.
*flailing, egotistical victory dance*
You sure that isn’t the dance you do when the short bus arrives to whisk you off to pick turnips?
GOOD ONE, necrophiliac.
why
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