Try Not To Analyze It

This just in: Tiger Woods took a dump today!

I am a walking zombie today after seeing “Promises, Promises” last night. Well, I’m assuming I am, or should be, so I preemptively prepared a blog for today, and whether I really am beyond tired today or full of vim and vigor, I’ll review the show tomorrow. And to add to my state of zombieism, I had to get Shazz and Herbert’s American Idol blog posted as well. I must teach them how to use the computer for cases such as this when I might not be around.

How’s this for a question? I was watching the news yesterday morning and the son of one of the men trapped in the mine explosion in West Virginia was asked “Exactly, how worried are you? What’s going through your mind?” by the interviewer. Really? What the hell!

This just in: Jesse James blinked his eyes today and Sandra Bullock refuses to acknowledge it!

I had this crazy dream the other night that really made use of some current conscious elements and some not. I was in a bathroom, a rather large one, cleaning up from having been trudging through the mud all day. I was already mud-encrusted so I don’t know where I had been, but it was obviously a lot. I’m sure it has to do with the construction going on of my own new bathroom, but it wasn’t mine. Suddenly, as I was standing there, stripped down in all my glory, I felt pressure beneath my feet as though the floor were rising up. Indeed it was. The entire bathroom, with the exception of the floor, had turned into a glass enclosure (again, a reference to the glass shower enclosure we’re having put in, no doubt) and was rocketing up out from wherever it was located. My guess is a hotel. It was on a track, like a roller coaster would be and was soaring up over a rooftop restaurant where patrons heralded me with hoots and hollers and napkins of yellow and white folded into fancy designs. Most of them held their fancy folded napkins between their teeth and shook them like a dog would shake a toy. The next thing I knew, I was in my own backyard, and figured out where the mud had come from. It must have rained (hmm, I wonder where that subconscious suggestion came from) and my entire property was like a marshland. I plucked at clumps of wild onions that pepper my lawn along with several species of green growth that passes for grass. As I was coming up from the back, I saw my next door neighbor, with her back to me, washing her car on a blacktopped area in her yard, her dry yard. That’s not even close to what her yard looks like. And she was naked from the waist up. That’s a suggestion I won’t even entertain.

So, on that note, why not check out what the newts had to say about American Idol last night?


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