Stay-in-Bed Lady

There are days when I want to tell my waiter,”Excuse me, I ordered curly fries, not curved fries.”

When sales people are trying to be sassy or funny they should not accidentally refer to a game of leap frog as hop frog.

Everytime I stretch out my stay-in-bed lady back in public people look at me. Don’t they know not to stare at the ailing?

Traffic and full bladders are an unfortunate combination that persist beyond childhood.

I walked myself a little silly today without properly rehydrating with a delightful alcoholic beverage. Silly me.

I’m at that stage in life where heartburn is becoming more of a part of life than an occasional, “Whoops maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that.”

I always end up tipping the car wash people without inspecting their work first. Then I find bird shit still on my car when I get home.

About the same time I became aware of my over-consumption of deep fried potatoes I also realized how depressed I am without chips and fries.

My stay-in-bed lady back is killing me. I wonder if it’s enough to qualify me for disability and unemployment? I’d be living the dream.

I hate waking up somewhat nauseous in the morning leaving me to think, am I hungry? Sick? Hungover? Pregnant? All of the above?