Tumbling Down the Hill.

I think I have reached the pinnacle of my life. Or, at least, that's what my body seems to be telling me. It's actually falling apart. I am sore all over, I somehow have like 6 different limps and my pinky finger is forever demented. I sleep approximately 19 hours a day and do little other than sit around and try and read some Jane Austen before I fall asleep. I have begun taking Centrum Silver and my hair is thinning quite drastically. I flatulate around people all the time and it doesn't phase me in the least. I have to put my feet up for most of the day because otherwise all of the fluid in my body drains there. My top half turns into a raisin, and if you poked my bottom half with a pin I would likely burst. My sight is going, I use a horn that I jam in my ear to hear better and I have but 6 teeth remaining. And all of this since my 20th birthday a little over a week ago.

Pretty soon I'm just going to strap on a Depends, lay in bed, and get my mom to come flip me every now and then.

On a more catastrophic note, Condoleeza Rice became dreadfully enraged today and ate Pierre Pettigrew in 7 and one half bites. The good news is that the carnage did not stop there. Incredibly, the Presidents' entire senior staff experienced similar rage blackouts and proceeded to ambush Parliament Hill, killing 87 and wounding 15 others. Among the deceased are Prime Minister Paul Martin and Former U.S. President Woodrow Wilson. (And a great aunt of mine.)
Luckily for us, the day was saved and the danger was eradicated when Deborah Gray swooped in and saved the day by opening up a rather large can of Whoop-Ass. Hallelujah. She was right, too. Wayne Gretzky is the Greatest Canadian.

Good grief.

What a day. This has not been funny.

Drained witless,

Darwin. Whatever.