As I made note of earlier, I am going to Chicago next month. My biggest fear isn't that I'll cry while volunteering at the marathon, still be on crutches, eat too many chicago dogs or that I won't want to leave. EVER. No, it's that Oprah is going to hunt me down and eat me. First, because I am quite delicious, secondly mostly because Oprah, in my opinion, is bat piss crazy. Period. So why wouldn't she hunt down a random tourist for a mid-afternoon snack? Yeah, not an Oprah fan. I realize by writing that last sentence I risk losing blahggie buddies, but hey.. it's a risk I'm willing to take.
That is all. Thank you blaghesphere.
Oh wait. One more thing. This is what my yesterday afternoon looked like. Go to Doctor. Doctor said it's probably not a stress fracture. Told to ice, ibuprofen, rest and if it's not better come back in yet another week to check for stress fracture. Freak out and have total and utter meltdown on the way back to work from doctor. Get to work. Proceed to freak out about almost everything in my life and have internal meltdown while smiling and nodding at everyone. Go home. Open bottle of wine alone because Ed went to Oklahoma. Fall asleep on couch covered in Nutter Butter crumbs and spilled wine. Life is good....
Also. I still hate James Taylor. And SOMEONE is poking the bear on Twitter in regard to Oprah and James Taylor BOTH, it's like the perfect storm. I have a bag of vomit and animal poop ready and waiting to hop on the aeroplane to Chicago with me. BRING IT.