Monday blahs…


Yesterday was more evil than most Mondays.

Both Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox look stunned. I was too!

They found me. I don't know how, but they found me!

No, not because the Libyan terrorists tracked down the wily professor or the DeLorean disappeared into the future….

Anyone want to explain how they smuggled a grenade launcher into the country but can't steer or shoot worth a damn?

But rather, despite my best efforts, gluten broke out a can of ninja whoop-ass and tackled me.

Aside from the havoc it wreaks upon my intestinal track, it gives me a headache and all my neurons suddenly require a GPS to figure out where they sent that last message. Wait. Message? Did I have a thought?

In addition, I go from:

to this:

Until I fall into a sleep that not even Prince Charming could breech with a magic kiss. In fact, were he to try, he might get punched in the kisser for interrupting my coma.

 

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