Riding along in the passenger seat of the LaCrosse were California Lemon Head, The Great Poo, Alien Poo and Spikey. When they got there, they took over a chair and by now probably have control of the remotes.

It just occurred to me that I need to get some new dimensions in my life. Of course, if personal history has taught me anything, that thought will be like a little seed that decides sprouting is not all it’s cracked up to be. So here I sit with a wave of rah-rah, get on the bandwagon optimism, but the verb “to sit” is the indicator that not much will happen.  It’s my personality, dontcha know?

Well, at least I know I won’t be getting a tattoo that looks like a chain going around my ankle. See, sometimes laziness and procrastination can be your friends. Not that I have any critical thoughts about people who do have such tattoos – Oh, that’s a lie.  That’s another part of my personality, too. Not so much the lying – the judgmental aspect. Ack! I just realized fat bulges – spare tires, for instance – are invisible ink type of tattoos.  Let’s see; chain tattoo on the  ankle of a fit and healthy body vs. blank skin on a lump Michelin Man body.

Okay, it’s time for me to shut up and just go talk to Foo at the Foo Bar. Maybe she’ll show me her tattoo. Oops, didn’t shut up soon enough.