Be Just Like Starting Over

 

 

While the temperatures here topped 90 degrees every day for over a month, I got sick and couldn’t shake it. I had a headache for over a week; a pinched nerve in my neck made cycling impossible. During the Olympics, I spent a lot of evenings lying flat and watching TV with one eye open. This has put me in a MOOD.

slicker than a greasy ticker

Red peppers, looking sexy.

My doctor, to whom I’ve been a consistent source of amusement for about 25 years, retired at the end of June to move to the West Coast and spend time with family. I understand that other people have their own lives – in theory! – but this is very inconvenient. To me. One day, I was so sick Pete poured me into a car and took me to the doctor’s erstwhile office, where a young sports doctor looked me over and was very confused about how I was balancing an ice pack on top of my head and making conversation. I liked her very much, and she was very helpful, but I’m used to working my comic stylings before an older demographic.

Pickled. You heard me!

Sometimes I too feel like I’m full of tiny bubbles.

Though it was above 90 again today, the spell is broken. I am pale and out of shape, but feeling like myself again. The fall semester begins in just about a week and I’m registered for a class I’ll do well in. Most of our jarring season is behind us now.

I’m ready for things to cool down just a little. I’m ready for things to heat up.

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Birds And Snakes, An Aeroplane

Slate is now inviting word nerds like you and me to diagram the Donald’s endless “sentences.”Stop laughing! That is not a sentence, it is the sound of a million primary school teachers crying in frustration.

Oooh! Mossy!

Someone else’s driveway can seem ancient, broken and glamorous. However, this is just a shady spot on a damp street.

Here at Poor Impulse Control, we have a new motto: Words. They’re not for everyone!