Stuff

I'm about to be naughty but I just cannot resist.  Several days ago I saw where Kim Kardashian was rumored to be dating Kanye West.  Just the mere thought of this made me laugh.  She has gone from a serious train wreck of a marriage to Kris Humphries (that she's not even out of) to a nuclear explosion, in Kanye.  Girl...give it a rest.  Your picker is broken and in desperate need of repair.  Quit. Quit. Quit.  Get some therapy and find out why you are doing what you are doing, before you trash yourself anymore.  For an intensely beautiful woman, she's got absolutely no self esteem.  I guess that's what happens in "the business".  You just make one bad choice after another to keep your name out there.  What a sad, sad, way to live.

OK.  Enough romping on Kim.  I am sad to report that the transplant Dr. Fred and I attempted with the huge Carolina Jessamine plant from my dad's office, has lost it's battle to live.  Despite water and root stimulator, it got a toe tag.  Considering we had to cut two huge tap roots to get it out of the ground to transplant, that's not real surprising, but we'll try anything once.  It's out front for "visitation", lying by  the curb, waiting on the big trash pickup later today.  A stiffer corpse you have never seen.

Finally, my baby boy is set to have his eye balls nuked mid-May, after being tied to contacts since third grade.  He just had to have contacts to play Y football, so I let him.  Yesterday, he had his eyes dilated, examined, and mapped at the Vanderbilt Eye Clinic, in order to determine if he was a candidate for surgery, and what the best procedure might be for him.  The funniest part is, he can't wear his contacts at all for several weeks prior to surgery, so he's sporting a cheapo pair of prescription glasses from Sam's or somewhere, until surgery.  I was about to post it here but it looks like something that belongs on the Post Office wall, or at the FBI.  He said after they dilated his eyes yesterday, they were out of Stevie Wonder disposable shades, so he had to drive home, squinting.  Baby...it's just always sump'in.