Thanks to Medic Mom (who is bitchen’ and neato and go read her now!) I know which Peanuts character I am:
You are Rerun!
Which Peanuts Character are You?
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And here I’d just called it my dingy blonde cheerleader routine, or perhaps my snarky writer-on-the-outside routine… who knew I was just a cartoon character that’s already been done?
Thanks to LunaNina for the meme:
Oh, you’re wondering what the hell I’m prattling on about? Free association game – my subconscious has been working overtime lately kinda like a dog running around its backyard frantically digging holes everywhere trying to find that perfect bone it just *knows* it buried around here somewhere, so I figured I’d try some word-association and see what happened.
So far none of the closets in the sub-sub-basements located deep under the dungeons in my head have dumped any part of their skeletal contents on me about it, but then, it’s only been a few minutes. Lately though, that’s a record. Maybe it’s time for a bubble bath…
I’m running off with The Grand Poobah to the wilds of… well, a California campground where the biggest hazard will probably be beer cans. And groundskeet… erm, small children. Who, around me, are really only a hazard to themselves. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Happily, as we were unable to procure marshmallows of the variety suitable for roasting over an open flame, we should have absolutely no problem whatsoever getting a nice roaring campfire going to keep our toes toasty. Now that I’ve tempted the gods of fire and frost…