|Nothing bad happens in fishie land. Never ever. No it DOESN'T.|
And I am sad. I want to be naked and submerged and covered with bubbles. Without having to enter a radio contest.
Of course a much better place to be naked, wet and slippery would be my boyfriend's, anyway. Would be. If his water wasn't orange. Carrot with a spray tan orange. And if it didn't leave behind scales so thick and so sharp you could shave with them. Yes, he's had the water tested. Ask him about it sometime. It will give him great delight to drag out the report and show you how tiny the margin was by which it passed as drinkable.
I don't know. That's just the kind of thing farmers find funny, I guess. Keep in mind that 80% of the man's social contacts are cows. You gotta cut the guy some slack.
But this still leaves me in an unforgivably vertical state for all of my bathing practices.
Hm. Oh. Sorry. I guess none of this has anything to do with anything relevant for anybody reading this. I was just booking a hotel room for an upcoming over nighter, and was debating between the $78.00/night and the $171.00/night options. Writing this was... helpful.
Never mind! Back to your lives now.