I started my Johns Hopkins-recommended yoga regimen today. I spent quite a bit of time upside down, contemplating the amount of space in my lungs. Indeed I found it difficult to breathe, being upturned. No one provided comic relief in the form of an embarrassing fart. I felt a bit glowy and melty afterward. I took my funky butt to Zen for a dashi bowl and then came home and reclined on the bed.
Bob is rejecting my requests to come home soon so that we can get our V-day dinner.
Our puppetty pals Sock and Snail will be debuting their own form of abusive improv this weekend at the Cagematch. Snail is a snail and Sock is a (real) sock. We may give Sock some googly eyes so he feels more puppety. Right now he's just a big cotton muzzle. Hurling invectives, of course.
Snail is known for his/her brash honesty and fondness for asexual reproduction.