I wanted to write something clever and scintillating but a trip to Orlando wiped me out today. Leiha invited me to eat Korean and then take a sidetrip to Nordstrum to return these fabulous fuck-me boots. Food is a good bribery to get me on a roadtrip. Asian food is a dealmaker when it comes to shopping. Remember this.
A typical Korean meal.
All the dishes come with your order
Anyway, that trip? Was all about calories. When we finally reached my front door and after hitting the remote, Leiha had to lean over and pull the car door handle, then roll me out of the vehicle. It was a delicate procedure. Using the intricate science of momentum, I was able to time my slow roll so that I got through the garage door without crashing into it. Then, head against my rolypoly sides, Bad Puppy had to push me across the room with his dogfu.
It didn't take long before I subsided into a pile of exhausted lard and lay there till, oh, half-an-hour ago. Now that I'm awake, I feel totally disgusting. I still feel like a giant ball of lard. I think I need to go running to get my humanity back.
You know that's also a sign of old age, don't you? When you can't eat as much as you used to.
I'm doomed.
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P/S The title of the post came from a song in a ridiculous movie from the early 80s that I saw in film class. I can't remember much about it but that song pops up in my brain whenever I least expect it. I guess that makes it memorable.
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