tough day
tired
sore
overextended
cook is ditto.
going to bed. soon. perhaps the sun will shine on us tomorrow.
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys. Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old trucks. Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys. 'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone. Even with someone they love.
Comment by Lauren
January 31, 2006 @ 12:34 am
Like a rhinestone Cowboy.
I shoulda been a cowboy.
Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.
And the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.
I believe there are angels among us.
See, I just went 6 lines with a connecting word until I ran out of bad country songs (just kidding… they’re not horrible) to use. Go me, I win.