No, not really. I hate fishing. But my brain…yeah, it has checked out.
I have had nothing really to say for a couple weeks now. And my back has been “out” for a couple of days, so I’m kind of looped up on some painkillers and that really doesn’t help me think, now does it?
Today is supposed to be Flat Flannery Friday, and I actually do have something to post, but it will require some work, and I just don’t have it in me today.
And have I ever mentioned that I work in a real live Dilbert world? It’s a cubicle city, which is toxic to me anyway, but it’s a job, right? Anyway, there’s this girl a few cubicles over, which I call PB, for “Princess Bride” because she got married a few months ago, and is really snobby and uppity and didn’t even tell anyone here she was getting married, but we all knew because she did ALL her wedding plans at her desk every day. Anyway, she clears her throat ALL THE TIME, and it is super annoying, and I’m just sitting here daydreaming about bludgeoning her like a baby seal. Although I do like baby seals, and DO NOT agree with them being bludgeoned. But PB, maybe…
Pain meds, see what they do?
So what was I saying? Oh yeah, about how I’ve got nothing. I was even supposed to send something to my buddy, Lynn, from Autism Army Mom. And I didn’t. I know. (I’m a little effing scared, if you know what I mean)
Homegirl don't play...
So, yeah. I guess you can move along now, because there’s nothing really to see here. Maybe I already wrote every witty little thing I had to say, and there’s nothing left. Eh, who knows, right? Some of my other bloggy friends are reporting similar difficulties, so maybe it’s a collective brain drain.
I think I just drooled on my shirt a little.
Living on the Spectrum: The Connor Chronicles 
You crossed Lynn? Um, yeah, nice knowing you.
Even you got nothing, you’re still funny. That’s more than I can do.
Carmela doesn’t go south of the Mason-Dixon line or she would be down there taking care of this little situation ifyouknowwhatimean. Now go comment on my latest post before I cuff you so hard your grandchildren will feel it.
Sorry to hear that your back is bothering you AGAIN. Geez! I can sympathize, though I think you have it way worse than I ever do. I’m sorry. 😦
By the way… I’m sure you will get your writing MOJO back soon enough. For now, just get through the day without hurting anyone. xoxo
Sorry to hear about your bum back, but I am hoping the drool-inducing drugs are at least worth something! Feel better soon!
Ugggh, the back—nothing hurts worse. Sorry.
But pain killers, now that’s where its at. And pain killers at work—that’s some good stuff right there.
I say thump her on the head like a baby seal. Needs to be brought down a peg or two….
I used to work in a cube farm in my past life. The chick next to me was trying to get pregnant. And she liked to talk about it on the phone to anyone who would listen. ALL. DAY. LONG. I knew WHEN she did it, WHERE she did it, what POSITION she did it in, how OFTEN she did it, what her temperature was, blah blah blah. Seeing how PB is a newlywed, I suspect you may be in for a similar torture in the not-too-distant future.
Feel better. Even if it means taking more pills.
You’re killin’ me!!
Back pain sucks. Pain meds are good. Your muse will return. Just get that gorgeous little boy in a room full of his girlfriends and you will have blogging gold! 🙂
(Are you sure Flat Flannery did not pay you off not to print more scandalous pictures of her this week? Just sayin….)