flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Because I’ve been nursing tendonitis for a few weeks, I’ve had to switch from the elliptical to the stationary bike, of which I had forgotten the main hazard — a throbbing, tingling, numb sit-upon. So I complained on Facebook about my angry lady garden, and then that was my new imaginary band name, and then THAT was clearly a punk band, so then this happened.
So far, my imaginary band has a hit Christmas single (Tingle Cooch) and the B-side, a non-bike-related ditty called “Stop Spewing Blood, Motherfucker.” It was that kind of a week.
Oh, and apparently I’m bad at counting — if you want that t-shirt for the sale price, you have three hours left.