Could'a bin the whisky, might 'a bin the gin
My head is like a football, I think I'm gonna die. But this time it's got nothing to do with beer. Or sketch. And I don't think it even has anything to do with the beer-tasting brunch at Carl and Francine's, or Lana's birthday party.
I have a cold. A nasty, runny nosey, watery eyey, hacking coughy cold. So I'm going back to bed.
Maybe it was the penguins.
I have a cold. A nasty, runny nosey, watery eyey, hacking coughy cold. So I'm going back to bed.
Maybe it was the penguins.
2 Comments:
Sass, sorry to hear you have been felled by disease. Do you want me to stop by with Nyquil and OJ? I could just slide it under the door, if you are like me and hate people when ill.
Hope you feel better soon, Miss Sass.
Would it make you feel better to know that I read your last post thinking you were talking about real penguins?
Post a Comment
<< Home