I've had enough of CSI (Crime Scene Investigation). Tim forces me to watch it with him on Thursday nights, and I always feel yucky at the end of the show. Last week there were three stabbing deaths and a girl found dead in a trunk. Now I was dropping Tim off at school and we both noticed a clunking sound from the car. After I got home, I decided to check it out. First, the tires, then under the seats...trying to find the origin of that rolling, thumping sound. Finally I opened the trunk. And there it was. Huge black garbage sacks, containing bodies...parts of bodies. And in that queer moment of knowing that I'd be the type of person to discover bodies in my trunk, I panicked.
I looked.
Good grief, tires. All four of our regular tires wrapped in black garbage sacks.
And I was mad. Not at myself for indulging in these type of thoughts, but at TIM. At CSI and all the other fanatic writers and produces for making such gruesome shows.
Tonight I'll watch Little House on the Prairie.
Tuck said in P.E. they played the "Hit each other game." I asked, "Are you sure it's not called dodgeball?"
"No. It's the Hit Each Other Game."
Alrighty then.
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I'm taking a quick break from scanning and photoshop work (man this is scary. I feel so stressed on this project I'm doing.)
That's a pretty funny story there petey. I like that show. It's too late though in the evening.
Sorry about the kitty cat. The cool ones always disappear it seems. I had killer tame and lovey, and she vanished. I had oreo. And yet Quark still seems to stick around night after night protesting my sleeping.
Have you seen the pro dodgeball on TV? It's a riot. Looking forward to reading your book thus far. Send that puppy along.
Goodnight peeps.
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