tavie.com

I'm coming down with something. That whole "I have to leave early today to go to a doctor's appointment" alibi so I can go see Scooby Doo here may turn out to be ironic, like the time Beth from NewsRadio called in sick to go shopping, got caught in the rain and actually got sick.

Oh, my sweet Jesus, did I just tell an anecdote about a television character as if it were from real life? This is worse than the time Gilligan and I were arguing over the last coconut...

I am so not funny.

I feel sick. Just crummy-sick. Could hardly sleep last night. Tossed, felt like all night. My Southern Gentleman caught me online last night at one a.m. and shooed me off to bed. I made him promise to give him a wake-up call, but he and I are too much alike; I knew he'd probably oversleep. Luckily I heard my alarm and was dressed when he called me, fifteen minutes late. He's the pumpkin, he is.

My mom, dad and sister left for a weekend in Chicago. They left last night at 4 a.m. They called from the plane just now. It's been rerouted to Indianapolis. HA ha! They're sitting on a plane, doing nothing! Why I so mean? That's not funny. Gah.

During my fitful sleep I dreamt about Kirsten and Nina, and Mark, and puppies, and bombs. The nice dream turned really scary when the bombs started dropping. Nina and Kirsten were still in this big house where I'd left them to go outside and chase puppies, and bombs fell and the house blew up. That's not a good dream. My scary dreams are almost always about bombs. Funky, eh?

Me no feel good. But... tonight: Scooby-Scooby Doo!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:40 AM | shower me with attention