And I'm not very good at clubs!
This is hopeful news. Now that the weather outside isn't so frightful, it can be Juggling Time once again. I get such an acute case of cabin fever sitting inside at my job all day, occasionally catching a glimpse of the gorgeous sun outside from the corner of my eye, that something needs to give.
The first step will be mastering 3-ball juggling. Start small. No more of this effing dropping biznass. Biznassty. ...that is not a word.
5 comments:
I found you.
...As did I. Hawkins, you should know better than to try to escape the prying eyes of we who have too much time on our hands.
Quick! Get Grandma and the sawed-off shotgun! They've breached the walls!
Oh God No!
...but seriously, thanks for looking for me, you creepy bastards!
It's kinda like trying to hide from the posse that rides out looking for the cattle rustler: ya just cain't do it.
ps. "club jugs" sounds like a softcore porn site.
pps. it is. I just checked.
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