No, there’s no Dustin Hoffman here.  Though there are a few gratuitous boob shots.  Sorry about that.  I still haven’t figured out how to wrangle these bad boys with the current situation.

Short and sweet.  Like Paul.  Or peeps.  Or Peter Dinklage.

I’m averaging almost 2 hours of sleep a night this week.  And no sleep makes my chemo brain act up.  So since I keep switching words (like “ass” instead of “oatmeal” for example) I’m not even going to pretend to write anything.

Someone please drink heavily on my behalf.  The end.


    1. ha ha ha. Mine are “the boys” too … I love asking my guy if he wants to play with “the boys” … it cracks me up and he doesn’t seem to mind …

  1. Your kid is going to play the tambourine in the Olympics.

    It’s going to replace ping pong. Because really, PING PONG?!

  2. You know, I don’t have chemo brain, but I keep getting all kinds of words mixed up or lost. And OBVIOUS words, which makes it more than a little bit scary.

    So I get scared about early onset and dementia and shit like that, but then I quickly forget and forge on. Should I WORRY about that?

    Ooooh … look … butterflies ….

  3. Sleep is overrated!!!! Really. Trust me. I am The Doctor. (I am counting on that at this point you’ll believe just anything anybody says… )

    I don’t know why but I want to quote you this:

    Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

    Maybe wrong year.

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