My son is sick, Mr. Man is sick, and now in spite of the gallons of Lysol I have gone through, I am sick.
My computer is all jacked up, I haven't been to my office in days and I have a breast biopsy in my near future.
I don't know whether to drown my woes in Chunky Monkey or fling myself from a bridge. (A low one as I am afraid of heights.)
I guess I should look on the sunny side of the street by playing a mood boosting game I like to call the At Least game . It makes me feel good by comparison and that's the best way to feel good.
At least I'm not a conjoined twin. That would suck 'cause with my luck, I'd probably be the one condemned to a life of pushing the stool for my Reba McEntire wanna be sister.
At least I don't have Ted Nugent hair. Seriously.... put down the gun and pick up some product. It was fine back in the day, but come on.
At least I have all my teeth. I am grateful for that every time I see old people cutting their corn off the cob.
At least I know there is no such word as "irregardless".
At least even though due to illness I look like I've been licked from head to toe by Big Foot, Mr. Man is forced by law to love me and to baby me while I am sick.
At least I am not a yankee. If I couldn't say "y'all" and eat biscuits and gravy, I would combust.
At least I am not James Frey. I tore through both his books and am saddened to see what's happening to this prolific writer. When I write my best seller, it's all gonna be a lie, so back off.
At least I can say this completely unfunny post is a result of my fever and in no way a reflection
of my lack o skills.
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