2007 12 30

Some days I wake up and I swear that during the night the Gnome of Stupid has snuck in my bedroom and whacked me a few good ones right on the bean. I'll go through the day not spelling my own damned name properly, walking into things, and pretty much making sure that, in my single-handed way, proof positive exists of the retardation of the average blonde.

One of my friends likes to say: I cannot brain today, I have the dumb.

Another likes: My damaged is brain.

I should get them both on a t-shirt, in large, bold text.