Well I think I'm lame, too, but that's what I do.

Scabs are there for healing purposed. Do NOT remove scabs.

I made it through yet another holiday without my head detaching from my body. I rewarded myself by purchasing black patent leather go-go boots for the Super Vixen birthday party. Besides a glass of wine, it was Switchblade and my nieces and nephews that kept said head from rolling right into the mashed potatoes. They can feel free to borrow the go-go boots for being so cool.

The most ultimate Pussyfoot practice took place yesterday. I should mark it on my calendar. Rockabilly Holiday should end up being our crowning gem if we keep this preparation ball rollin' the way it is. We conquered the evening itinerary, PFG song selections, set lists, costume design and measurements, and even some mild choreography. I'm happy to report that Von Bondies' "No Sugar Mama" has made it onto the list as well as the song "Turkish Coffee" which will be stuck in your head for days on end! It got Switchblade's thumbs-up of approval. I plan on rockin' the most foolish facial expressions the entire show. I'm thinkin' circa 1960s beach party faces. Classic.

Today was our annual Cookie Day. I was so tired from work (did you know that they have a 5:00 in the MORNING too?!) that I barely helped. I am ashamed of myself. But my mom did give me a holiday Jones Soda set with flavors such as Turkey and Gravy, Brussle Sprouts, and Pumpkin Pie. You'll all be sampling them on New Year's Eve and if you have to puke, you're puking on a globe and that's that!

I was supposed to meet The Shoe-Lanes for dinner but missed out due to Cookie Day festivities. Now I fear that I'll be missing the post-dinner hang-out seesion because I pretty much have toothpicks holding my eyelids up. I'm lying. I know this because that imagery is terrifying. But I am dog tired. And I smell like a dog.

Miss Phoebe Bean has been MIA (which is a fancy term for "in Florida") but is returning tomorrow. I will be spending the day priming the basement, awaiting her "come get me from the mother-truckin' airport" call.

"I drop my drawers for pompadours".