Jolly Happy Fatso Day to you Katie with the four siblings.
Veyr sorry to hear about your job woes. Maria says Happy Birthday and that it's better to throw up on your plate than to throw up on your keyboard. Not sure what got lost in which translation, but she means well.
The pic is not of you KT but of our illustrious monster on his first night with us. Notice that he looks nothing like a real dog, and certainly not like a Malamute. He was not a jolly happy fatso in the least. But at least Maria got used to having him around and now can't imagine a rich and famous lifestyle without him. What?
We do not Yahoo anymore, because we chat via stupid Messenger on MSN. I hate it. But Maria and some dumb friends like it. But soon I shall never chat again because I will post to this blog instantaneously for sending and receiving. I am becoming one with the blog.
What did you have for your special birthday dinner? Sausage rolls? Lemongrass soup and a chilean bass wrapped in phylo dough? I sometimes like to scare myself by watching cooking shows and imagining myself to be one of the judges who *has* to eat the food while smiling on tv at the same time. I always get scared. And I can never help imagining this.
While making the movie, our movie for podcasting, we are realizing how fun it is and how much work it is and how much we do not know. It's busy-fying. Got to get back to the old ... computer. More later!
5 comments:
I need to remember that Jolly Happy Fatso song for LuLu when she cries...right now all we have is "Lucy Bajuicy"
Do you need to know the tune? The lyrcis are: I'm a jolly happy fatso. La la lala la. I'm a jolly happy fatso. La la lala la.
You basically go down a key for each new line of jolly happy fatso.
I don't know if it ever assuaged Katie while she cried. It could have been all the bouncing off of the lap - up and down, which is probably why she likes roller coasters to this day.
I remember the song. I like roller coasters. I was once a jolly happy fatso. Good times, Good times.
I had some yummy spinach and tomato pizza on my birthday and then tonight Danny and I returned to 852 so I could make some pizza fondue. I'm sure mom will be bummed when she finds out I chose to make it on the night she was out. Actually it was all very spur-of-the-moment. It shan't happen again.
Puke on my plate? That's gross. All of the time I TRY to puke in the toilet. Try.
Why the puking?
perhaps we were trying to sympathize with you, amy. Don't you have a little baby nearby? And don't little babies barf semi-frequently? I think it says so in the manual.
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