Back from a week off due to my attempt to pull an Evel Knieval with my motorcycle.
No truth to the rumors that I was actually trying to put myself out of commission in order to avoid having to endure the last five hours of this crap.
OTOH, who the hell knows what my subconscious was up to…it may have had some other ideas, thinking that a body cast may actually be considered self preservation compared to what this show was doing in terms of killing my brain cells (and the booze I was drinking to make watching this show tolerable killing my liver).
If so, my cat-like reflexes outsmarted it, and things are just fine and dandy today.
And my wife just spit chardonnay out of her nose by hearing me mentioning “my cat like reflexes”.
No respect. No respect, I tell ya’
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