Harumph. I am not in a good mood this morning. I don't know why. Perhaps red-ant toxicity.
I have been thinking about things to talk about such as Gwyneth Paltrow and what's up with all that cleansing and how is that different from your garden-variety-non-celebrity eating disorder and oh, I don't know- Willie Nelson cut his hair!
But what's the point? Willie Nelson's hair doesn't affect me and neither do Gwyneth Paltrow's cleanses. Nor does who won American Idol although that little girl sure was cute and every time she smiled and showed that missing tooth I swooned a little.
No. I'm more concerned with the fact that my chickens have probably scratched up all my zinnia seeds which is hardly of earth-shattering interest to anyone in the entire world.
I suppose I should go take a walk and see what's happening in Lloyd and in the woods and over by the horse farm. The world will go on no matter what sort of mood I'm in. Oprah will gain or loose weight and fifteen different experts will tell us why, including that weirdo spiritual guru of hers. Sex And The City II will be discussed endlessly and there will be a plethora of pictures from openings in Morocco to Milan to Miami and the outfits the women wear on them will be discussed endlessly too. The Pope will say something, Jesse James will cry on TV and Sandra Bullock, if she is smart, will say nothing at all but will stay at home with her baby and bask in real true love. Tom Cruise will remain shorter than his child bride. Glenn Beck will come up with another ridiculous theory. People will demand that Barack Obama put on his swim fins and super hero outfit and swim a mile down and plug that oil leak up with his bare hands, goddammit- you're the president, DO SOMETHING!
Gwyneth Paltrow will instruct us on how to stimulate more effective bowel movements.
Not me, baby. Try some prunes if you're having a problem.
Willie Nelson won't give a shit what you think about his hair.
I'm going to take a walk, see if I can improve my mood after I make Mr. Moon an egg and cheese sandwich. Maybe I'll put some bacon in there too.
At least one of us will be in a good mood. Why don't "good" and "mood" rhyme?
Maybe the Pope could tell me.
I doubt it.