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I've been walking instead of running lately. First the toe, now the heat (Lfv means no running when it's over 90). And, geez, 3 close calls with moving autos in the first two blocks from the door. Splat!

M.Hardy tore his tummy. There are so many cruel jokes to be made later. For now, I will just feel bad.

I had a super stressful day at work. I bring it on myself! Mostly. Now I have a ton of stress roosting on my shoulders and neck. Rawr. Hurts.

Lamely, my way of dealing with workplace stress is to stress about other stuff too. So in the middle of a bad day at work, I started getting on myself about writing. So healthy! I get all tangled up in mechanics and failure and stupid things I can't control and taking an innocent comment the wrong fucking way and flip-flopping between guilt and puffed up self-righteousness about it and ahhhhh! Shoulders!

Carrying M.Hardy's torch

Hagen Daz DarkChocolateCoveredSeaSaltCaramel ice cream bar. The most delicious thing I can stick in my mouth and not break my vows to Moe.

It is ThePreciousOnAStick. No, wait. It's salty, snarky Christian drenched with dark chocolate-y Precious, while CM Punk and Jack Swagger deal out upon your person dual body massages and Vince McMahon writes you a big fat check for "That time Steph rooned Raw" and it's Steph, for once, who is sitting in a ditch, in the rain. Also, Colt and Jimmy Yang and Carlito dance around to Copacabana, and Maryse says "You make that dress look way better than I did."

Er. I mean. At the snackbar at Kmart (picking up hemroid cream for KIMO HAHAHA) and enjoying an ice cream SCOOP. posted via txt 26 minutes ago