Feels like Monday.
But it's not.
On Monday Corey and I were eating waffles, and loading a car, and driving through smoke, and doing laundry, and eating chicken, and passing out at 9:30.
So that means today is Tuesday. Like I said.
And what do we usually do on Tuesdays? Hmmm? A little thing called Ten on Tuesday. I answer ten random questions and you laugh hysterically as I manage to interject band references and expose my inherent geekiness. Hey, ever heard of trombone push-ups?
So maybe 'hysterically' is a slight exaggeration.
A chuckle? I can settle for a chuckle with the occasional belly laugh.
Can you tell I'm stalling?
There is no Ten on Tuesday. The originator of the questions (ahem) was preoccupied. Something about being pregnant and having other stuff to do.
But it's for the best. I have very little brain power to answer ten questions and perform the doodies for which I am paid.
So I will leave you with this little tidbit of information:
My great-grandfather, the father of my dad's mom, punched a bull in the head because he was chasing her.
He punched a bull in the head, folks.
Who does that?
Tough guys. That's who. So keep that in mind. I have 'tough guy' genes. Don't mess.