Truly.
Can't think of anything to write about (which tells ya right there how the noveling's going) except maybe to say that I'm a bona fide slot-slut and a non-going gym slacker.
Yes, ladies and gents, I'm on a serious gambling tear. Oh, don't schedule the intervention...yet. But, geez. I can't seem to lose lately. Big time. (That sound you hear is me knocking on wood, er, possibly wood veneer.)
As for the gym...well, here's the deal. For five business days in a row, I've dutifully packed my gym bag and remembered to put it in the car. Then...come five o'clock, dread fills me like the silicone in Pam Anderson's boobs. (Was that a metaphor, or what?) And I think, hey--no one's forcing you. If you don't wanna go, then don't.
Yeah, I'm astute that way.
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