I’m over the Swine flu. I fell much, much better. It was a wierd flu. I felt like crapola and every part of my body ached like crazy. I was absolutely exhausted and felt, well… sick. But, my appetite was fine. In fact, it was quite healthy. So there I was, laying on the couch and barely able to lift my quarter pounder with cheese to my lips…. Not a typical sight.
And no, the zombies didn’t give me Swine flu. The pigs did.
As for our own personal plans in case of the (inevitable) zombie attack, my father in law was in town to help this weekend. We worked out a basic plan for the zombies as well as what we’ll do if any radical group takes over the country and we are plunged into anarchy. Sorry to my side of the family, but if this country becomes a crazy, anarchy, revolutionary place, I’m headed to my in-laws. In their village of 150, there’s more guns and gunpowder than in the entire state of Texas. And that’s saying something. No, they don’t all have a school bus buried under their yards and they aren’t saving up for Armageddon or the day that the Dem’crats try to take their guns, they are all “hunters.” At least, that’s why most people I’ve met in Northeast Louisiana say they are well-armed.
No, RayRay’s family doesn’t have an obsessive amount of guns. Just a lot of his neighbors do. Glad to clarify.
No, we don’t have a gun.
No, I’m not against guns or for them. Well, I’m against crazy people having guns.
Do we have this issue settled?
In other news, my mind isn’t really dwelling on zombies, anarchists, or gun control. I’m freaking out about the craft fair coming up on Thursday night. I have made necklaces, bracelets, tote bags, drawstring bags, and a huge mess of bath salts and sugar scrubs. Now I have to label everything, get it ready to sell, and get everything set up to go. I am a sleep-deprived wreck.
I really, really, really, really, really hope I do well this year. If you’re in the NOLA area, pretty please come by and buy my stuff.
NOLA? New Orleans, Louisiana. It’s what they say here. With a fleur de lis thrown in somewhere. Or everywhere. I went to Michael’s the other day to get stuff to package my crap. I tried to find a fleur-de-lis paper punch. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis stamps. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis stickers. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis paper. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis ribbon. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis toilet paper. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis toilet cleaner. Sold out. Fleur-de-lis Q-tips. Sold out.
Ok, I might be exaggerating a teency bit.
Now, it’s later than I wanted to go to bed. And I’m tired.
Peace out, cub scouts.
Dangit! I forgot to tell y’all about the Zombie Dog! Ok, that’ll have to wait for another post….