She broke some bones coming off Jake (her scooter) but is expected to make a full recovery. Dr Filk has flown to her side to render aid and comfort to the stricken. And make sure she takes her irony supplements – without which, life is completely meaningless, hein?
I am at Planet Bachelor (Paul and Keith’s new digs) for supper, having trundled Keith’s B-day prezzies over here, and we are anxiously awaiting Miss Katie, who’s off work now.
I am still in a very thoughtful mood. Watching the sun go down yesterday felt really good, and I, like a fool, have commenced the deep thinking that accompanies the start of a new, long poem.
There’s Katie, gotta run.
7 thoughts on “Lady Miss Banjola is a hurtin’ unit”
Sorry to hear it. Hope she was wearing leathers.
She was entirely decked out in appropriate gear and lost about one square inch of skin. Also, mom in law being a doctor meant that she had some serious fire power on her side in dealing with the medical profession.
Very useful. My best hospital stay was in your mother’s hospital.
Not even a square inch, more like a spot the size of a matchhead. My leather pants deserve an ode of gratitude to be certain.
SO …. I guess they are NOT the Leather Pants of Evil as mentioned by Nancy Louise Freeman?
I had to say it, I had to say it….
So we’ll have to write a song…. Think of a title, madame, and I’ll take it from there.
Leather pants of squee-ville!
Oh, no, it’s…. PARODY of a PARODY time. Filk, the last resort of the last resort of recursion. I just wish it was any rhyme but Squee-ville. That’s pushing it