The August issue of Her magazine is IN THE PINK BINS!!! (Even my brother,
who lives in Scotland, now knows that if he should desire a copy of the
magazine when he returns to America he will find it IN THE PINK BINS. When
we talk about the magazine or I mention it by name, he says "you mean the
one IN THE PINK BINS?" Yes! The very same!
This month's column (which you can also read online HERE) is all
about my body's conspiracy to make me look like I've never exercised a day
in my life. It's all, who me, run? Please. I am a lady of leisure. AND I HAVE THE THIGHS TO PROVE IT. Pass the sweet tea, dear.
Also, Gus is developing a spiritual side. His brief, yet, sophisticated
commentary on suffering appears here in my weekly blog post.
In other news, I am going out of town on bid-ness for the next two days
PLEASE GOD DON'T LET MY PLANE CRASH.
What is with all the planes crashing lately? Is it because the airlines are
losing money? They're all, "When we see more 'profits', you'll see more 'the
rest of your life.'"
And what is with all the doctors being so tight-fisted with the Xanax?
Do you remember back in the day when you could just phone in a request for
sedatives and they'd call the pharmacy without asking any questions?
You do?
Who is your doctor?
Give me her phone number.
Thank you.
I did not used to be a nervous flier. But then a few months ago, while
dozing off on a Saturday afternoon, I happened to see that part of the pilot
episode of Lost (ha ha! Get it? Plane crashes in the PILOT episode? Shut up I feel
crazy right now.) where the plane plunges many many feet down and all the
people are violently tossed UP and they smash into the ceiling and then a
few minutes later they crash and die?
Let's just say THAT SORT OF THING DOES NOT APPEAL TO ME AT ALL.
Like, AT ALL.
So, umm, you know, if it's not too much trouble, starting tomorrow and then
again on Wednesday, I'd like you to do that thing you do when you're trying to keep
planes aloft for your friends. Pray, light scented candles, clap and chant "FLY,
BLABBERMOUSE, FLY!" Whatever has worked for you in the past.
And, God willing, we'll talk when I get back.
who lives in Scotland, now knows that if he should desire a copy of the
magazine when he returns to America he will find it IN THE PINK BINS. When
we talk about the magazine or I mention it by name, he says "you mean the
one IN THE PINK BINS?" Yes! The very same!
This month's column (which you can also read online HERE) is all
about my body's conspiracy to make me look like I've never exercised a day
in my life. It's all, who me, run? Please. I am a lady of leisure. AND I HAVE THE THIGHS TO PROVE IT. Pass the sweet tea, dear.
Also, Gus is developing a spiritual side. His brief, yet, sophisticated
commentary on suffering appears here in my weekly blog post.
In other news, I am going out of town on bid-ness for the next two days
PLEASE GOD DON'T LET MY PLANE CRASH.
What is with all the planes crashing lately? Is it because the airlines are
losing money? They're all, "When we see more 'profits', you'll see more 'the
rest of your life.'"
And what is with all the doctors being so tight-fisted with the Xanax?
Do you remember back in the day when you could just phone in a request for
sedatives and they'd call the pharmacy without asking any questions?
You do?
Who is your doctor?
Give me her phone number.
Thank you.
I did not used to be a nervous flier. But then a few months ago, while
dozing off on a Saturday afternoon, I happened to see that part of the pilot
episode of Lost (ha ha! Get it? Plane crashes in the PILOT episode? Shut up I feel
crazy right now.) where the plane plunges many many feet down and all the
people are violently tossed UP and they smash into the ceiling and then a
few minutes later they crash and die?
Let's just say THAT SORT OF THING DOES NOT APPEAL TO ME AT ALL.
Like, AT ALL.
So, umm, you know, if it's not too much trouble, starting tomorrow and then
again on Wednesday, I'd like you to do that thing you do when you're trying to keep
planes aloft for your friends. Pray, light scented candles, clap and chant "FLY,
BLABBERMOUSE, FLY!" Whatever has worked for you in the past.
And, God willing, we'll talk when I get back.
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