…with a not-so-welcome virus – my roommate says I sound like a transvestite – and Miss Marple.
Thank G-d for Netflix, for I think I might find myself deeply suicidal if I were ringing in the new year with commercials for depends and kinder, gentler catheters.
Seriously. I’m in my 30’s. Not that I’d want to be out drunk somewhere with drooping false eyelashes, red lipstick clinging to the corners of my mouth, and some guy accusing me of being a lesbian because I had the bad manners to not want to see him naked. But a game of scrabble, perhaps?
Blame the two year old and his germs. Not my two year old, heavens no. A borrowed 2 year old with snot pouring out of his nostrils. “Green blood, mommy,” he said. “Green blood.” Apparently, when you’re two, every bodily fluid is blood.
There’s always next year. Here’s to a rhino-virus-free 2013.