May cause numbness, vomiting, and a strong urge to finger-paint.

I swear, I'm losing my mind. I think I'm going senile. I'm pushing 30 (not TOO hard, but shall we say that I'm past Jessica Simpson's definition of "mid-20's"). And I can't remember a five item list. For instance, I've needed wax paper at the grocery store for the past three weeks, but do I remember to get it? Hell no. But I have an inordinate amount of canned mushrooms and Hamburger Helper. And that, my friends, will not make chocolate covered pretzels for you.

Christ, next thing you know, I'll be *that lady* with 28 cats. I need some of those drugs they advertise on TV for Alzheimer's. If it weren't for the damned side effects ...

Anyways, the girls are on their way. They are running late (imagine that), and won't be here till after 1. That's OK, because it's almost noon and I'm still in my ripped pajamas with a hole in the ass. I'm sooooo hot. I'd do me.

Private message to the nice person that informed me ... I *KNOW* I bungled the title of the book below. I am fully aware now that the proper title of Mr. Franken's book is indeed "Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them". Please accept my deepest apologies. Now, go find something useful to bitch about, please.