Hello? Is it still Friday? Was it ever Friday?
Well, who is to say we can’t have chupcabras on other days? I mean, besides their labor union, the International Brotherhood of Chupacabras and Assorted Improbable Creatures, which was recently denied collective bargaining rights by Deformed Play-Doh Sculpture Scott Walker (WI). Why should those union layabouts get six days a week off and all the goats they can suck? My friend Christina bought Goblin a plush toy shaped like either a sloth or a bigfoot (the jury is still out), and it crossed the IBCAIA picket line on the way in here.
How are you, my little artichoke hearts? I am making a list and checking it twice. It is a list of things I have to do in order to graduate from Ye Olde Acupuncture School in a couple of months. A long list. I am making arrangements for some preposterously overdue renovations in The House That Is Collapsing Around My Ears. I am embarking on a new thirty-day fitness routine—a thirty-day fitness routine I started last week, diligently performed for two days, and then forgot all about, so maybe the second time is the charm on that one. I am a busy little bumblebee, but not the kind that is dying off because of environmental evils. I am a bumblebee who survives and eventually contributes to its 401(k) again.
Here is a chupacabra.