Yoga Makes You Fart

This post is going to include a warning for my few readers. This post does not have anything to do with yoga, nor does it have anything to do with farting. So you need not fear getting second-hand embarrassment for my part.

I'm not sure that sentence made grammatical sense, but we have no power in half our apartment and I think that gives me license not to make grammatical sense today.

What is this post about? You ask, wondering why I haven't dropped the word 'digress' a couple hundred times already and asking where my short stories of the day are.

Well, you see I have had the creative juice squezzed out of me like a metaphorical orange being juiced to make fantastic orange juice. Except you won't be finding any Margaret Brain Juice on the shelves at your local market. The fantastic orange juice in this metaphor (similie?) is the fact that I'm spending hours a day trying to understand math and calculus instead of just bullshitting my way through the quarter.

(holds for applause)

That was your queue to say 'Oh Margaret, you're such an inspiration to us all!' And then I would blush and say, "Aw shucks guys..."

But I for real have to clean up my room and put away my laundry right now before bed time. So goodnight friends (SMILE!)

(( see no yoga or farting was mentioned until right now... sorry about that))

ps: I have FOUR followers! Saweeeet!