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Skull Resident Musings

Or am I channeling my dog? You decide.

RVA Snaps

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My Portfolio

I write things that are serious. Seriously.

I’ve been dispatched to the sick room which is slang in our house for a guest room in any other house that has an extra bedroom available. We don’t seem to have many guests eager to visit, probably because they know us and assume we are a strange and unsettling type of household that’s best avoided for overnight stays. I’ll not address that now. I’m too weak. So this room sits vacant waiting for the next sickie (sicky?) to be

The last post with no real purpose served me well because I wanted to get some junk out of my head that was taking up real estate, so I’m doing it again. But this isn’t going to be a habit. I’m reasonably certain. You, however, should be pretty certain I’m lying. Here come the bulleted items, people! Yay. Federer is out of the French. However, Nadal is also out of the French. So, I’m going to call this even because

You know when you have those kinds of days that don’t seem to have a thread of connectivity running through them to ground you? So, you’re kind of like the tasmanian devil dude spinning around everyone, and …. Look, let’s just be honest. I was manic today. And it’s Tuesday. So, according to The Bangles, I can’t even do manic correctly. But anyway. It was a wild kind of day. Rollercoastery. No, spellcheck. Rollercoastery, NOT rollercoasters. I’ll write my own

Matthew and I had to console ourselves with a pathetic approximation of a DMB concert held in our den. Sure, there was plenty of space to move about. No B.O. to be found. Unlike last year, there was no new sticky and grotesque-smelling substance on my flip flop to remove the next day because there was a newly-minted drinker in the crowd. Look sweetie, it’s ok not to like the taste of alcohol, but if the alcoholic beverage you’re drinking

I have so many blogs to write. Two in particular are eating away at me because they are so delayed as to be almost ridiculous to produce at this point. Mad Men is over. I’m sure nobody cares to discuss anymore, but I still have so many feels about it that I’m going to write my blogs about the final two episodes anyway. But this post is about the fact that despite Monica Seles being stabbed during a tennis match TWENTY

I haven’t asked Matthew if he thinks this is a possibility or even a probability because I think he would agree so wholeheartedly that I would probably get my feelings hurt a little bit. Well, maybe a lot. Then I’d be walking around all Charlie Brown-like for a few days, and it’s hard to be super productive when you’re Charlie Browning it. I mean you’re head’s all droopy. You’re probably running into things, so you’ve got bumps all over your head and