Pardon me, ladies and gentlemen…

We seem to be having meteorological difficulties.

Me and summer seem to be at odds lately. Perhaps I wouldn’t have such an attitude if the weather wasn’t so damn…summery. This is Seattle. This is not what I read in the brochure. I want my money back.

I can only take so much of the sun, pink sequined tank tops, flip-flops and French-manicured toenails. I am a native Washingtonian. I am most psychologically suited to a more somber climate. This Malibu-Barbie-Convertible-Corvette environment gives pause to the idea that alcoholism may not be such bad idea.

Of course, I jest.

About the alcoholism, naturally.

Of course my reluctant imprisionment forced upon me by both my physician and my spouse does little to cast a more pleasant light on my attitude about this particular season. Thanks to a hairline fracure in my 5th metatarsal I am confined within my apartment for an as of yet undisclosed period of time.

Damn biology.

Never thought I’d actually miss work. I’m bored to tears over here.
Okay, I am not going to further document my attitude problem today. I’m going to go watch some Whose Line is it Anyway? at 10:00 pm, if I make it. I’m fi’n ta crash here.

Voulez-voulez-voulez-vous Whose Line?

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