There is no word in the English language, or any language, that can possibly describe how fucked up Five Feet of Crazy™ really is. Behold the insanity:
One day I'll tell you about the nasty dream I had about Charles Krauthammer
Today is not that day.
Wish I had the inside scoop on this story. I have no life.
Right now, long time readers are asking:
Kathy, is this like the dream you had that you were married to Newt Gingrich, after you ate too much stinky cranberry blue cheese at a "Support the Danish Cartoonists" soiree last year?
The answer is: no, it was WAY crazier. Dude can't run away. Think about it mentally.
Sweet Mother of God, I now have mental images of that drooling lunatic stalking a paraplegic for reasons best left unsaid. If anyone needs me, I’ll be curled up on the couch wishing that I could have the last 10 minutes of my life back.