I ate so much yesterday, that my joints are full. They're screaming at me. How can that be? It's almost creepy. If my hips and knees could speak they would say, "Hey lard-butt! We have to carry you. Take a step back from the dressing and the 3rd helping of dessert. Seriously? The first two servings weren't enough? You didn't get the ESSENCE of the chocolate silk pie the FIRST TWO TIMES? Trust us. It's good. It's chocolate. It's deadly. Back the heck up and turn around."
My joints aren't really friendly and they certainly lack in customer service. My joints work for Sprint.
Ouch.
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6 comments:
I think your joints and mine have been having a little get together.
Well, if we knew they were going to have a get together, we could have brought cake!
hmm, your posts are not feeding to my Dashboard. I thought you quit.
Be Well (did I do that right??)
You did it perfectly! And quit? Moi? You and I are far too stubborn to cave, sir.
:)
Hello Deborah! (Nice name btw - heh!)
I just read something you wrote in someone's comment section and it was written so beautifully and logically and gently and thoughtfully I kinda fell in love with you.
I'm poking around your blog and I'm liking what I am reading. I have become a subscriber.
Hi Deborah, I am so happy to find you here! Welcome. As the blog says, "come, join in my reindeer games"
:)
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