Indulge me one more cross post (which I guess isn’t even technically a cross post since I’m just linking, but whatevs, I’m exhausted).
One of the things I never thought I’d be able to say is “Snoop Dogg’s entourage spewed champagne on me,” but, well, life is full of surprises. (I was too busy protecting my lens to get a photo of said spewage, so, in its stead, please enjoy this photo of Snoop strutting.)
I wasn’t sure I was going to make it downtown today. I woke up feeling like cold death. My left leg hates me and pulses with resentment when I’m standing. It also refuses to bend or twist without giving me hell. The rest of me is sore, just from wearing unfamiliar shoes and carrying a laptop and camera bag all over creation. I just didn’t foresee coaxing my body into another evening spent in the cold and rain, but Jon Sparks peer pressured me and I went down there — unshowered, so HA — and gave it several good hours. I’m glad I did, honestly, even thought I’m fairly sure my knee is infected (it’s hot to the touch and has a pretty gnarly coloration, yeeeeeee). It’s cool, though. I’m healthy and I’ll get it fixed straightaway.
After I spend the next twelve hours sleeping, that is.
Good lady, thanks to you I don’t feel QUITE as bereft at missing BSMF again this year. Your posts have been great and your tweets hilarious. They put me right up there amongst ’em again. Only thing missing — as it has been for far too long — are the dulcet shoutings of the Late, the Great O’Landa Draper, and that is the fault of the good Lord, not you.
Can I help cover the co-pay for your knee-ectomy by requesting prints of the Raitt photo above and His Very Reverendness below? Am serious. Will mat and frame them for my office shrine and honor you accordingly. Aaanh.
Sending healing pats to you and snuggling pats to the Kittehs.