Dead chics and build-up

Anna Nicole Smith died today in Florida and the media, even Bill O’Reilly and Anderson Cooper, are going nuts over it. Why? She was blonde, had big boobs, posed nude and married a rich dude ten minutes before he died. Big deal. I mean, yeah, with a few exceptions it’s a tragedy when anyone dies, but damn. Isn’t something else happening worth spending the airtime on?

I’m sick, as I mentioned before, but now I’m sicker. My antibiotics have given me the trots, so I have to stop taking them and just suffer through whatever it is I’ve got. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go to Dirty Girl’s house last night.

I missed work today, and I’ll miss tomorrow too. DG came by the apartment though and gave me some flowers and a get well card. She was thanked rather enthusiastically. At least as well as I could, anyway.

Gotta go now. Getting tired again and I have to make yet another trip to the loo. I’ll answer my notes tomorrow. Well, there’s one that doesn’t deserve to wait, and she knows who she is.

At least forty-five minutes, I want to make sure everyone has a good time. I’d offer to show you but DG might get upset.

That’s all I’ve got to say about that.