Um, Happy New Year?

Nothing to see here, Ladies and Gentlemen.

(Literally: 'Nothing,' that is: 'me').

Move along.

Oh, you're the type that loves train-wrecks? Great! You've come to the right place.

I'm not eating.

I had a bit of apple for breakfast, with some tea.

I had some pineapple slices for lunch, with some tea. To go along with my lunch: I ate half of the roasted quarter chicken and two brussels sprouts.

I feel stuffed. Bloated.

I wonder how long this will go on.

Hm. Not long, I suppose. I'll get better, or I won't. Whatever.

Happy New Year!

Okay, okay (`phfina relents), here's a Happy image for you:

Me, skip-di-skipping down the road to Rhinestone Eyes ... you have the admit (so: admit it. Go on, then!) that when the chorus comes in, it's very skip-di-skippy-y.

And, after skipping, you just can't plod along, after that; no: a girl has to run, run with a big, huge smile on her face.

Not bad for a girl who, this month, fell down a flight of stairs.

Not bad.