Holy macaroni and cheese, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. And then? After the truck hit me, it called all its other truck friends, and they all came and hit me, too. Several of the truck friends focused on my right shoulder, but all the double-trailer trucks (you know, the ones that have more that one trailer?) took special aim at my right thumb. Bastards. And then! THEN! Then they all backed up, revved their bastard truck engines, and drove full speed at my hienie as if my just-started-doing-my-squats-again-hienie were one of those runaway truck ramps you see in the mountains. THAT’S what the bastard trucks did.
So, picture THAT blogosphere.
As you were.