Honk-SHOOOOO

Dude? I'm totally trying to figure out what to write about today. I got nothin'.

The Obamas still haven't figured out what kind of puppy to bring into the White House (a BOXER!! Durrrr!), no new pictures of the Jolie-Pitt clan (although, I am sure they are reading my blog; my tracker indicates that someone in the Provence region of France found their way to Dipped In Cream--seriously, who else could it be?), and I refuse to write about Lindsay Lohan's dumbass dad, Michael's stupid blog where he talks shit about Samantha. LEAVE SAMANTHA ALONE!

My coccyx (tailbone, people) still freakin' hurts from the fall I took a week and a half ago. I'm not going to the doctor because he'll just laugh at me. "Listen, lardass, at least you had cushion to fall on this year!" So, no thanks. I caught Felix's cold, due to being coated with every single bodily fluid he could drip, wipe, spray or squish on me. (Gross enough for ya?) So my head is throbbing and my nose is stuffy and I'm being a big baby today...takin' my "Tussin", as Chris Rock says.

Bleh. I'll come back and whine some more later.