I don't know about you, but my weekend was filled with work. Well, technically not work work, but when I heard tale of Old Lady Weatherly down the block being on her last legs, I, like many of the other ambitious folks who watch Antiques Roadshow but realize we have no great aunt to accidentally gift us a 19th century lamp that turns out to be worth $50K, run around the neighborhood trying to ingratiate ourselves to elderly spinsters with full attics in the hopes we'll be the lucky bequeathed. I baked a cinammon swirl cake. And I moved furniture out of a spare bedroom. And I replaced an antennae on the roof. And then I discovered that Old Lady Weatherly was recovering nicely from her flu and I took off with nothing to show for my hardwork but a well-past due butterscotch candy.
In short, I never got my pound of potatoes this weekend, so I'm going to submerge my denied passions in a pit of wicked round and hot funbags, kind of like the amazing orbs exhibited by the bodacious Leah Francis in her new topless lingerie photoshoot. It's like a virtual pair of the world's most comforting pillows upon which to lay your wounded pride. And I intend to lay so for many many hours today.
Bless you, Leah. Enjoy.
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