good talk

So, I still have Meredith Grey voice from this weekend. It's making talking on the phone fun and interesting.

Scene from yesterday:

Me: Happy Mother's Day!
Mom: What's wrong with you?
Me: I lost my voice.
Mom: I hope you're not getting sick.
Me: I don't think so, Mary was visiting this weekend.
Mom: Oh, I see.

End scene.

Because Mary visiting equals lots of bar time and little sleep and even my mom knows it. Although, I think losing my voice had more to do with shouting along with Kelly Clarkson (I know you're wondering if I could BE more of a nerd (thanks, Chandler and check out these parenthesis inside parenthesis) and the answer is YES) in the car.

Speaking of Meredith Grey (excellent transition, yes?) . . . I might freak out. If they kill Burke I will not be happy. I'd rather they kill Denny because Izzy has apparently gone batshit crazy. I love Dr. Burke more than any other fictional character on TV (um, except Jim Halpert because HELLO he's Three-hole-punch Jim).

I have no idea where I'm going with this entry. Nothing new there, I suppose. Sigh. I am really regretting my choice of underwear today. It has spent the majority of the morning lodged firmly up my butt and I'm finding it really difficult to concentrate on anything because . . . hello, permanent wedgie. It's really hard to pick those without people noticing. And I think my co-workers would get weirded out if I went to the bathroom every five minutes to pick my butt.

Wow. I think this blog has reached a new low.