Three, that's the magic number. Yes it is, it's the magic number.

It's been a busy week, so I don't have much to talk about that isn't work-related, and I'm sure you are uninterested in ways my department is looking to trim our budget in the next year (two ideas we're mulling: using cheaper "variety" meats such as squirrel and hobo, and possibly setting up a brothel in one of the unused classrooms).

I have been encountering odd things in "threes" this week, a fact that I am finding both interesting and slightly disturbing. In no particular order:

• I passed three midgets/little people in a 30-minute time span. They did not appear to be together, nor was there any sort of convention that I was aware of.
  
• I keep encountering the quote, "Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end." First on Mr. Smither's blog, then on a poster at work, then on a magnet in a store. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Is "the end" some sort of butt reference? Is something wrong with my butt? I'm confused.
• I tripped three times in two days. No injuries, but what little shame I had left seems to have moved on to greener pastures. I'm re-considering working knee pads and a helmet into my daily wardrobe.
  
• Without thinking about it, I ate dinner leftovers for breakfast three days in a row. Today it was curried couscous & veggies that I mixed up with some eggs. Maybe tomorrow I'll have steak and a baked potato or lasagna. I see stretchy, nondescript pants in my future if I keep this up.
  

Also, I've been going through my 67,845 pictures on my computer and getting a bunch printed up. I have a pack of 294 that will be arriving at my doorstep any day now. Only 67,551 to go...

Here's one of Pooter & Trouble in my underwear drawer the other day:


Now you can say you've seen my pussies in my panties.

Happy Friday, my furry yet well groomed elasticized lace bloomers. Happy Friday.

XO
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