Now it’s really Friday, not Thursday’s make-up day

Ah, Friday. I don’t have to do any work tomorrow. Except for oh crap. Crap. I have to go to a birthday party, which means I will wrap up some item I find in the back of the closet. Here, have one shoe. You’ll love it. It makes you look like you have more legs.

This morning Mr. H and I went and tortured the parasite with an ultrasound machine. I mean we treated it hospitably, as a guest of the US government. Verdict: parasites do not like being mashed and otherwise bullied with sound waves. It has quite the impressive brain, though. Takes after me. I also spotted the reproductive organs, and if I were a proper internet parent, I’d post a photo with an MS Paint arrow pointing to it, along with the caption “Money Shot!!!!!” Yes, this is done on the internets. I have seen it. People who do this also tend to have lots of blinkies festooning their personal internet homepages.

Later, I had a phone call with someone with a suave British accent. I wish I could only have calls with people with suave accents. I could just lie on the floor and pretend David Bowie is calling to ask me about my interactive vision. Except David Bowie would have even better manners than that. He’d start by inquiring after my health, and then he’d move on to a thoughtful compliment. Some pig!

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