Observations

I know very few people who actually play the harmonica.

I would rather lose a leg than one finger. But I would really rather lose neither.

I cannot, under any circumstances, imagine having my own reality show. Not that I'm not fascinating; I just think it's a bad idea.

It dismays me that "commentate" is apparently an accepted word in American English.

I cannot imagine any job that I would love more than writing for a living.

Princess is reaching that stage of her life in which she realizes that Mommy and Daddy can't do everything, and screaming about it won't help. Unfortunately, she tests this hypothesis repeatedly, for upwards of 30 minutes at a time, in the middle of Lowe's, continuing out to the car.

When you need an anvil, you can't find one.

When you have a headache, you can't imagine anything worse. Then you get the stomach flu. And you're still glad you don't have a headache. Then you get a headache, and you stay home from work, wasting a perfectly good sick day being sick.

Tyra Banks is remarkably self-centered.

If I hear one more person misuse "literally," I'm going to literally choke him or her to death with a copy of the dictionary. Literally.

While I hate the word "chillax," it has offered the alternative to "take a chill pill." I shall now be telling people to "take a chillaxative." I shall be so popular at parties!

They say chicken noodle soup is "Jewish Penicillin." When I'm sick, Chicken McNuggets, fries, and a Coke always makes me feel better. What kind of penicillin is that?

If a man walks down 42 roads, he may call himself a man. Not before.

I have discovered that I can make up very convincing "facts" about almost anything, and people tend to believe me, because they think I'm "smart." So be on the lookout for my blog post about our forgotten president, Hezekiah Moline von Shtupp, the only U.S. president elected, impeached, and assassinated on the same day.

I should never blog when I'm sick.