Updated

[itsallovernow]

Have heard from half of my MN contingent about their relative safety and wellness. Am assuming I would have heard from the other half had there been disaster.

Spent much of yesterday early evening simultaneously trying to wrangle my boobs into various ill-fitting costumes while setting up M.'s new iPhone and trying not to flash him and trying to decide - in my flurry to choose a costume and music and take a shower and get his phone done so he could call his huge family in MN to check on their safey all in an our - how much I cared about being mostly naked in my living room.

The verdict- I apparently have at least some pride and some modesty left, although M. did get an eyeful at one point. At least he was appreciative.

He has named the new phone Winona. I have not stopped laughing. (M. lives under the mistaken impression that he's as cursed as John Crichton. This? Also cause for hilarity.)

My show last night went well, and no one was hit by a flying cane since I didn't drop it. This is cause for much whoo hooing.

life_on_queen continues to beat my pants into submission in the Sharkrunning. I am apparently far too willing to sacrifice Olaf to the shark gods.

In conclusion, new Burn Notice tonight when I return from the wars.

Comments

[flouritephoenix.livejournal.com]

It's actually wangle. Weird, huh?

[rubberneck.livejournal.com]

*ahem* I think she does indeed mean "wrangle"; in the sense of rounding up animals, with a side order of angry dispute due the recalcitrant nature of what she's wrangling into ill-fitting corrals.

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Hee - it's very true. I do, in fact, mean wrangle:)

As opposed to say, "I wangled myself an invitation."

I mean, "I wrangled my boobs into submission like they were recalcitrant cattle."

[life-on-queen.livejournal.com]

I mean, "I wrangled my boobs into submission like they were recalcitrant cattle."

Ai, like the discussion of boobs wasn't essentially bovine already...