oh yes, it really was, literally and metaphorically.
I keep inviting Kit to lap dance for me. Kit is my landlady and she reminds me not a little bit of my mother, who irritated the fuck out of me on more than one occasion with her sidewinder slipstream doublespeak ways. Obviously I haven't gotten over all that, because I keep engaging it, at least on what should be my off-hours. I need to put Kit's shit back in her own lap, where it belongs.
I am strongly considering hypnotherapy. Three bags of chocolate chip cookies are admittedly cheaper (on the wallet) but also more expensive (on my psyche). Actually there are no three bags of chocolate chips, but the click in my jaw isn't getting any better so I figure I must be grinding in my sleep.
Fer Chrissakes, put it down, Victoria!
The thunder this morning was grandiose. I loved it.
Here are some drawings.
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