I ate a mastadon, only with less protein

If salt and fat were the keys to youth and slenderness, I would be Karen Carpenter.
Which is a joke in rather poor taste, I'll admit. Poor taste seems to be the operative phrase. I have developed the appetite of my youngest child: French fries and pizza, punctuated with the random candy bar.
What health kick?
You'd think it was some sort of hyperactive PMS, but for the lengthy duration. I suspect that a combination of stress, and tiredness, are to blame. It sure ain't my fault.
If you tell me that you've never eaten an entire bag of chips, I won't believe you. I've been doing the like, daily, since returning from the hospital.
Sleeping a lot might serve me better.

I watched a movie tonight that you so want to go get. It's a feel-good love story that is really quite funny. New In Town. Go get it. It's rated PG. My eldest rolled his eyes at the rating, but he laughed during the movie. I watched it while eating several bags of microwave popcorn, and a healthy dose of a bottle of white. And also an apple. And a Hershey bar.
What?

I was thinking of all of you out there in blogland, just yesterday, as I climbed over Tim's rooftop in a silk skirt and Cole Haan sandles. Ya just never have a camera when you need it! The only ingress to the addition is from the ladder, see. You have to climb
up the ladder,
over the little roof thingy, and
in thru the window.
(Prepositions, you know.)
I was worried about two issues, once I navegated the ladder part.
1.Slivers in my backside from the window, and
2.flashing the neighbors.
I think that perhaps the funniest part would have been where I was trying to mount the ladder for the rickety decent, whilst the man-I-love tried to steady the thing with one hand, and keep the wind from wreaking havok with my modesty, with the other. It would have have been uproarious, were we not in peril of plumeting to our deaths. I managed to be amused, whilst I flirted with death, and his careful hand upon my, er, skirt.

Michael is mostly recovered from his own near-death experience. He does seem to have retained a rather persistant pain in his abdomen, that may warrent a call to the doctor tomorrow. If someone like me complains of pain, it means that I am searching for creative conversation. If My Man-child complains of pain, it means that his body is going to fragment, or develop internal gangrene, or something. It isn't good. I'm certian the doctor will be delighted to receive my call tomorrow.

Now that you are up on my glamour-don'ts, and my eating habits, I shall bid you a very fond goodnight. You should comment, and tell me the most regretable thing you've eaten lately. Or just leave me to my misery. Either way.