Stringer's Bell

That's me. Or as Auntie Sassy would say it - I'm a dirty rotten sh*t. That last post was a total April Fool's joke - meant to freak out my roommate because every Saturday she runs past my blog to see if there's anything she's missed in my life, since we honestly hardly ever see each other. (there's just puddles of yarn, she says, where I tread through the house after she goes to work and after she goes to bed.) (You guys were so sweet (there are some exceptions to that, of course) with your nice comments.) Needless to say, she freaked out and wanted to know why I had not told HER first before the ENTIRE INTERNET because she LIVES WITH ME and PUTS UP WITH MY SHIT and...then she realized what day it was and walked off like nothing had happened. I heart my roommate. And now for some heavy stuff, before I show off my purdy socks and my adorable child and his brilliance. I've been having some pretty severe health problems lately, which are going to require several doctors' visits over the next few weeks. Nobody is really sure what is wrong with me, because the symptoms I am having all point to different things, and I cannot possibly be that sick and still walking around. SO! Point of me telling you this IS - if I disappear for a while, it's not because I've given up the blog. It's because I'm dead. No, seriously, I may have to spend some time in the ol' hospital, but I'll keep y'all in the loop (without giving any fun details) as to what the hell is going on over here. TO abruptly change the subject, and possibly give each and every one of you severe conversation whiplash, I give you the smartest and cutest child in the entire wide world, MHP. Or then again, you can just imagine how him and his rockin' science fair project look, because BLOGGER SUCKS BIGTIME AND IS NOT UPLOADING PICTURES AGAIN. THAT'S IT, I'VE HAD IT. I am going right now to check out Typepad. YOU HEAR THAT, BLOGGER DUDES? I'VE HAD IT WITH YOUR PICTURE UPLOADING PROBLEMS AND DOWNTIMES AND ALL OF THE OTHER BULLSHIT. I'm taking my toys and going home. For you to while away the time it takes for me to figure out how I can justify paying for Typepad, take a look at this picture of Pamela Anderson, and tell me you don't worry about her children. First off, I can't say anything nice about her in this picture. Her hair is kind of helter-skelter, and her face...she looks tired. (Hello, lady who lives in the glass house? I'm looking more hideous than normal these days.) But the bruises on her arm are what freak me out. Don't those look like fingers to you? Some dude grabs ME that hard, you better realize his nose is going to be relocated under his right ear and his nuts packing up camp and moving into his upper abdomen. Hells to the no.