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Ohhh, my. Picture Eeyore. Think Snuffleupagus. Channel Puddleglum the Marshwiggle. Mournful. Depressed. Unhappy. Gloomy. Miserable. That's me. My complaints? My students seem to have gifted me with stomach flu of some variety. My body is vigorously rejecting my attempts at nourishment. Bah! Let it starve, then. I have a pile of very bad papers to grade, still. I've made no real headway yet. I can't go to Ice Castle, due to a class I must take to satisfy the Administrators of Doom in my benighted school system. I've tried to find alternatives, but none are apparent. My Samurai husband seems to have a death wish. Ask him about the Reverse-Driving Inebriated Cleft-Palate Mexican Homosexual Methamphetamine-Dealing Pedophile Risking Hypothermia Incident, and you'll see what I mean. I'll make a damn cute widow, once I drop fifty pounds from this flu bug. I'm gonna go take a shower and curl up with a book. Everyone else can just go away for a while. I know, moan, moan, whine, whimper. I am pathetic, aren't I? |
 
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Ohhhh, Bird!