What fresh hell is this?

I hope my boobs don't hang down to my waist when I'm old. I really hope there was NOT a bra involved in the situation I saw earlier today.

I love frozen pizza more than the pizza from most restaurants. I have no idea why.

I wonder if anyone will ever love me as much as my cat Sheldon does. She eats my hair while I sleep and puts her dirty butt in my face, though, so slightly less love could be a good thing.

I talk to my cats as if they understand me. Like full on conversations and asking them what they want.

What if we're just part of somebody's dream and we're not real? What happens when the dreamer wakes up? Do we disappear? Do we pop up in someone else's dream? Maybe our lives are really just us moving from dream to dream in a continuously shared dream journey among all the people (aliens? monsters? other beings?) dreaming about us. Maybe that's why life can seem so disjointed...

S'mores anything...with peanut butter. Yum.

I could eat nachos every day, but I won't. I want my pants to fit.

I had the morning news on last weekend, and  a televangelist show came on after the news ended. I'm not into that stuff, but I did catch one useful piece of advice: Remember who you are.

If you have to decide between doing two things, and doing one thing might land you on Judge Judy or Maury Povich, do the other thing!