You know that sound we make when we’re not feeling up to snuff? It’s not a moan, not a groan, not a whine … well, maybe it’s a grown up version of a whine.
I hereby call that sound URRRP. And people, I’m claiming my URRRP right here and now!
Whatever bug has decided to use my body as its temporary bio-dome just isn’t ready to go yet. And it’s wrung me out! So no Real Men Love Corgis feature today, for which I sincerely apologize. There are so many of you waiting for your turn on the blog, and here I am AGAIN saying hold the bone!
Err, the phone.
Please forgive my URRRP, and another delay. I promise it will be worth the wait. Next week I plan to pull out all the stops. I might even get Evel Knievil’s grandson to make an appearance with his Corgi!
Gotcha. I have no idea whether Evel’s grandson has a Corgi. Total speculation on my part, but wouldn’t that be cool? I’ve been watching a lot of 70’s TV while I couch potato my way through this bug, and the Evel Knievil thing, well … it happens.
Mr. Knievel shows up in cameos on old shows, where men and women in feathered hair and bell bottom denim are all agog at his mad stunt guy motorcycle chops. Full disclosure: if I didn’t have a little brother (hello Donny), Knievel might never have crossed my radar. But I had Donny, and in the 70’s, just about every little boy in America had Evel Fever.
OK, so some of you are asking by now WHAT the WAFFLE is Evel Knievel?!? Who is the man who flew over trucks in his motorcycle? The legend that IS Evel? Child, get thee to the internets. Show the memory of man and his red, white and blue pantsuit some love.
So friends, this is my brain on the bug. Me and my Evel fever.
Yours in Corgi love, as ever.