It's felt like an eternity of a week, and it's only freakin' Tuesday. My foot hurts (something heavy landing on it will do that to it...) and I miss my high heels; flats are no fun. I've got major omigod-it's-almost-the-playoffs!!!!! baseball jitters. I'm a wee bit swamped at work. A couple Marc Jacobs shirts on Bluefly are beckoning to me, designer devils that they are, and I'm trying like hell to resist them.
Clearly, I need a good laugh. I bet you do, too. And now we can have one, courtesy of the Peeing Tom suspect who's apparently terrorizing a neighborhood somewhere in South Carolina. A Peeing Tom is probably worse than a Peeping Tom, wouldn't you think (since the former is stinkier than the latter)? Granted, it's likely they were actually referring to a Peeping Tom, but that's not quite what they wrote, is it?