Aaaaand they’re off!
Long weekend, school-wise, for the Superior children. So this means that after much swearing and shoving of packed goods/staples into a space tight enough to forge diamonds, we will be off on a family excursion. Said pilgrimage consists of meeting my parents in the middle of nowhere and going camping for a few days.
You guessed it, folks, I’m shoring up the ole inheritance fund by taking some big-eyed cuteness (Sam, Scout, and Mathias…apparently I lost that charm some time ago) to dole out a couple of hugs and a handful of guffaw-drawing questions all over my parental-type people. I figure I’m up to somewheres in the neighborhood of a buck thirty-two right about now.
My cousin Christa, who once told me that babies come out of women’s butts, is also going, as are her parents; they are my parents’ resident best friends and partners in geriatry.*
Christa hasn’t any babies (please, see the middle segment to the first sentence in the paragraph above) to cavort in front of my uncle and aunt in a shameless ploy to soak up any residual cash or valuables; I’m hoping that my kids’ charm will be on the ultra-watt setting this weekend so as to sop up their leavings, too.
Wish us luck, dear Muffinasses, and you’ve got the run of the place till I return!
*Look, you fuckers. I know that’s not a word. We must bend the language to suit us. How many times do I have to tell you that??
9 worked it out »