Pickles & Dimes

This link provides endless entertainment by “predicting” what your next tweet will be, based on your past ones.

Here are my favorites:

Our largest goldfish died, though. Mondays = Fine. Fridays = diarrhea.

Sudafed: Extrapolating its effectiveness against my ear. HA!

I am running/dying on hold, thank God. I finished – confetti gave good advice.

Only 10,000 more Xmas shopping days. Listening to suffering from inside Workplace.

NOOOOOO! Orange car still smells like PURE GENIUS. It doesn’t. But it smells like bacon.

I refuse to complain that Jason asked me to join an elaborately planned jailbreak.

Rain? Check. Impending summer cold? Check. ENOUGH ALREADY, Thursday. I can beat the little things.

Type-A, quick-tempered, always-stressed husband would not be needing to wish my gravestone inscription!

Ah, autumn. Now I am gagging down the presence of crap I had this morning on fire.

So, the entire world. ARGH. Whined & leather pants from my Amazon wishlist updated, says my ear. HA!

Bought a shirt with an enormous bladder, because I fear that would make it turn green.

I also hate hockey. Finally wore a new dress to see if celebrities could probably make it.

Lie I guarantee: plastered all weekend. UPDATE: Someone found my knuckles.

It’s like me. Husband’s recent sleep-talking episodes involved him screaming at squirrels biting his lips.

We’re on Hour 52 of gravy. Most delicious thing about eating my alarm beeping for work.