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My Recent Confessions and Observations on Twitter, Where Everything Must Be Said in 140 Characters or Less
I have abandoned becoming an underwear bomber. It's an absolute horror. They were out of Elmo, Garfield, and Snoopy.
Jan. 1, 8:33 a.m. -- Broke my New Year's Resolution: "Do Not Eat." Downhill from here....
Slow down. Chinese New Year doesn't begin until Feb. 14, The Year of the Tom Bosley.
Only two days in and 2010 feels very similar to 1954, although without the diapers and this time I'm going willingly to the nap.
Already 3 days into 2010 & I've yet to use the words "Teaberry Gum," "poodle skirt," "with a drop of Retsin" & "Allen Ludden." I'm slipping.
Cold? I'm thinking about 5 pairs of socks. One for each toe.
Enjoying the coldest winter in 25 years, rocking by the fire, knitting Global Warming some booties...
Deep freeze. Meanwhile, my car trunk is full of kitty litter I can't get to the county dump. *sigh* ... Global pooping.
While I could never be an underwear bomber, I might be a swangin' trendy thong bomber. You know, something for the ladies.
My clones, Lester and Connie, only shop at two-for-one sales.

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