So I was thinking...
...I wonder if there is a hand-size limit for dentists. I mean, think about it...you can't have giant man-hands and still be able to get inside of someone's mouth...there's only so much room in there.
...I wonder if there is a hand-size limit for dentists. I mean, think about it...you can't have giant man-hands and still be able to get inside of someone's mouth...there's only so much room in there.
So someone out there is getting me good...real good. I'm embarrassed, puzzled, surprised, curious, and downright beside myself with how damn clever this prank is.
So my mother and I have, what you might like to call, a so so relationship. We've mostly gotten over that span of about six years when I did a lot of drugs that she didn't know about my rebellious teenage years. She hasn't accepted my lack of the Catholic religion...but she's dealing with it. (Or at least she's stopped openly talking about the baby spending eternity in purgatory and me burning in hell.) (I once had a nun explain purgatory to me like this....it's like having all the pancakes you could ever want, but with no syrup. The pancakes are still good...but not quite what you wanted.) (This is why I am so fucked up...my formative years were spent with a bunch of loonies comparing eternity to breakfast foods.) (Side note...Hey JD! Sister Myra told me that...remember her?) (Moving on.)
"She's either stalking me or she's on the same pee schedule...either way...I'm weirded out."
You'd think with the advances in modern technology and all that there would be a better way to buy toilet paper...because nothing says, "I shit a lot" better than that giant SUV sized pack of ninety-six rolls of toilet paper.
RACHEL!
It's June 12th!
AAAAAAHHHHH.
That is all.
"Whoever invented marriage was an idiot."
So I'm driving home from work and daycare...and it's one of those rare drives home when everything is nice and quiet (as opposed to the general shrieking that is usually coming from the devil precious angel in the backseat...punctuated by flying sippy cups and eerily realistic doll babies.) (I mean seriously...couldn't they make those things a little more cartoony? I'm afraid someone is going to spot one in my backseat in some parking lot at the damn Target and call the cops because they think I've got a premie locked up in my Florida Easy Bake Oven (AKA "the car" for you Northerners...and for everyone else too...because I totally just thought of Florida Easy Bake Oven as a clever name for a car down here. Get it? Because it gets so hot? Yeah...I'm good at this stuff)...and then the cops are going to come and break one of my windows and BIG GIANT MESS and TV NEWS CHANNEL and LIVE ON THE SCENE and who do you think will have to replace the damn window and get embarrassed to all hell when I hear them announce that there is a VW Rabbit with a fake melted baby in the backseat? Yeah...me.)
JOHN MCCAIN ADS? Are you serious?
Google! First it was all the Asian "dating" sites...now this.
Do you even read this blog? Maybe just a casual glance over here to the the left every now and then? No? Well maybe you should start...what in the world would make you run ads for JOHN FREAKING MCCAIN?!?
Couldn't we get a little Obama action over here? Hell...I'll even take some Hillary...just NO MORE MCCAIN.
So I step on the scale this morning...plus one pound from where it was last week...I look down at the scale with a look of disgust and say with completely bitter sincerity, "Why do I even talk to you?"