Here is a lovely image with which to start your day. Isn't he lovely? His chubby little thighs are like marshmallow manna from heaven. Now that he can smile, the screaming is slightly more tolerable.
So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
Comments
Hallam, I like them. The long legged ones are tricky in the dark, however.
KL, I bet that it has something to do with food.
Frances, if he looks like me, he must be gorgeous!
Rebeckah, like his father in every way...
Mary Jo, [ahem], he is. :) It must be the eyelashes...
Priyanka, we may have already ruined him with all of these books! ;)