I’m back and all the dirt’s washed off but the smell of great fun still lingers.
Until I can get some images offloaded from my camera and some words scraped together, here’s a cap from my phone:
Plus I still think I’m a little drunk. Shhhh, don’t tell my boss. He’s too hungover to want to hear it.
Breaking it down all simple-like.
Happy Easter, douchebags.
Whoops, I’m sorry I called you douchebags. I’m in a foul mood and it has nothing at all to do with any of you.
Well, most of you, anyway.
assorted folk saying various things today
I was running late and asked Scout to tote my gym bag out to the Magic Superior Stealth Vehicle:
“I don’t know why you bother paying a gym membership; you could just wag this thing back and forth to the car ten times a day and there’s your dang workout.”
Shut up, kid. You own just as many hair products as Mommy. And three times the styling implements.
A patient making a lunch reco to me and Tess:
“Maaaaan, you guys should hit Grumpy’s. Their chicken and dressing is OFF THA CHAIIIIN today.”
Ryan, you see, is the quintessential Urbanized Redneck. And a damn fine quarterback. And when he turns twenty-one, Tess and I will take a roadtrip to his Mississippi college to help celebrate. Hijinx will ensue.
One of the top ten Best Things I’ve ever heard my boss say:
“You could take that girl, squeeze all the personality out of her and coat your right nipple with it. You’d still have more personality in your left nipple than she’d had in her whole person before that squeeze.”
My Doctor brings it, you folk.
Typical date conversation.
JETT: This blouse is new.
MAXIM: I know! I really like it.
JETT: My breasts look really fabulous in it.
MAXIM: They do indeed.
JETT: Well, you’ve yet to point that out.
MAXIM: I thought it was understood.
JETT: ?
MAXIM: I mean seriously, girl, buzzards could be chewin’ on them thangs and they’d look great.
JETT: Correct as usual, King Friday!
Quickly becoming one of those Angry Thinking Americans I’ve heard so much about.
A return to wampum is the key to all our troubles. Holy Christ, and I’m in no way kidding, I’m either going to have to be a Medicated Middle American Babe or I’m going to have to sell all my shit and fetch my tribe to a small island nation somewhere that has an affinity for our delicious hillbilly accents.
your honor, i move to strike that
This week has been haaaaaard, man.
If we got this (very slim and precious) magic chitbook from The Powers That Be, and you could cash in its contents for Do-Overs, I’d trade a stamp for this week. Lick it, stick it, let’s try again.
Although, things seem to be looking up: Scout had tryouts this week. She made it.
also.
I am wearing penguin* snap-barrettes in my hair and that makes me happy in a way I cannot adequately describe.
*juicy, faaat penguins with hardly any eyes (this is cuter than you might imagine)
