When It Rains, It Pours Barf From the Upper Bunk

 I love typing blog posts, you know. It’s way big many muches of fun. However, it takes some time, and that I don’t have this week… …now that The Flu has moved in, and we’re all fighting off low-level nausea, the likes of which I last felt when watching Steven Bochco’s Cop Rock back in… Continue reading When It Rains, It Pours Barf From the Upper Bunk

Four Days Out, and It’s Still the Size of a Whoopie Cushion

Last week, possessed by all-too-familiar body image demons, I got in a funk, wherein I stomped around and moaned to Byron, “I just can’t lose these damn seven pounds. You know I want to blame it on my tortoise-like metabolism, but, yea, it might be more honest just to label it my Wine Weight. Poop,… Continue reading Four Days Out, and It’s Still the Size of a Whoopie Cushion