You know, it’s just one of those days where I have nothing worth talking about. I have little bits of fluff floating around, but nothing you would be remotely interested in. Nothing to win me one of those bloggie-er awards. You know that’s all I’m after.
I was going to rant about people who do 55 on route 495 (Ya, I’m talking about you, Miss ‘My Car is twenty years old so apparently I have to treat it like a moped’) but that’s so “been there, done that.”
I’m sad that Johnny Carson died, but I often read the National Enquirer, so I knew his emphysema was catching up with him. They had a photo of him and he looked bad. So maybe I wasn’t as stunned by the news as others. He was great – I probably should look into the “best of” DVDs but I’m sure the price just jumped on anything Carson-related.
My cow-orker brought me back a souvenir from her Florida Vacation as an early birthday present. It’s a grape lollipop. With a cricket in the middle of it. I wonder how low my blood sugar would have to be for me to unwrap that sucker (HA!)? I did complain to her that it was just my luck that the cricket is missing a leg. Isn’t that always the way? Nobody takes pride in their workmanship any more. And here’s an important question – do they use dead crickets to make these, or are the crickets alive until the molten sugar is poured in the mold? I’m guessing dead. I just hope it was fresh.
