Told you this breast thing was getting out of hand.

So the perspective is a little deceptive. But C-cups no longer fit, and I have to find a swimsuit this afternoon.

Separated At Birth

This week’s neuron misfires.

1. On Monday morning, Northern VA was covered in dense fog, and when I stepped out of my building, there wasn't a car in the street or a person in the parking lot. My first thought: "Oh god. Zombies."

2. In the bead aisle of the craft store: "I wish there was some place that sold beads already strung together. Like as a. Bracelet. Wait…"

3. At a traffic light Wednesday evening, two minutes passed in which I thought the hard-boiled egg smell in the air was not vehicle emissions from the outside, but the Cadbury Creme Eggs in my bag.

Obligatory Morrissey Post

Well I'll be. The new album is actually ok, and a marvel compared to the excrement that was You are The Quarry. I don't need to own it, but will download a few of the songs for-keeps. (Remember when we listened to Singles every single day on the way to high school? Then-ten-year-old music in my then-ten-year-old minivan, Independence Boulevard.)