"Rich and Happy"

Life is swinging,
Skies are blue and bells are ringing.
Every day I wake up singing,
"Look at me, I'm rich and happy!"

Days are sunny,
Working hard for lots of money,
Filled with people smart and funny,
Filled with people rich and happy.

Who says, "Lonely at the top"?
I say, "Let it never stop!"
It's my time coming through,
All my dreams are coming true:
Gorgeous house, gorgeous wife,
Who wants any more from life?

Skies are beaming,
Future bright and prospects gleaming.
Best of all, I don't stop dreaming
Just because I'm rich
And famous
And therefore
Happy, too!
. . .

Damn you, Sondheim. Damn you. You're turning this blog into a Broadway revue. -_-;;
Also started working out again in my own slapdash bouncing on a minitrampoline to obscure Stephen Sondheim songs sort of way ("Something About A War" is great to bounce to, while at the same time providing ironical countercommentary to the political events of the day). It's time to lose a few pounds and get back into shape. Yes.
Apparently it's happening to Mr. Gaiman as well.

It could just be out of desperation (I really have no one, within reason, to ask) or just to see how he'll react to me asking, but I think I'll see if Doug wants to come with to Sadies on saturday. Eh.

In other news, Joey wants to borrow my red t-shirt because it matches this thong that he has... which he pulled out of his bookbag to show me. That was interesting to say the least.

(But I was wearing matching boxer briefs, so let's just call that even, shall we?)

I have about 10 hours to finish a massive painting. And I've prepared a quarter of all of the house's coffee for consumption to keep me awake all night. Yay.

. . . . . posted:||7:59 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .