It's Oscars time. Somebody wake the Grouch.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Weekend illness...

Stew will have to carry the water tomorrow (unless we can discover where Juan and Zimpter have skulked off to) as I have strep throat.

The last two times I have played golf, I have come down with an illness immediately afterwards requiring a shot to my bum, or hip as the nurses gingerly describe that part of my posterior. (Note to nurses: Any part of my rear that involves me hitching down my trousers, even slightly, is officially considered bum. I believe that's an international medical law.)

Anyway, I will rejoin the living, blogging world when I have sufficiently recovered. I'm very depressed that I cannot currently ingest anything more solid than soup, especially with two Walker's shortbread biscuits, that the Millers brought back from Disney World, waiting for me on the dining room table.

They're Mickey's shortbread in case you were wondering. Apparently, Disney has deals with everyone on the planet to convert all existing products to Disney related fodder. This arrangement is to help pave the way for Walt to completely conquer the world when they bring him out of his cryogenic slumber, sometime in 2013.

Now where did I put that Daisy Duck Advil?

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