It’s Sunday. While most God-fearin’ Christian folk around these parts are readying themselves for church and the subsequent shopping trip they will make afterwards (this is if they don’t decide to go all out, get all crazy, and head 20 miles out of town to the elderly mecca that is the VF OUTLET MALL PEOPLE!) The Bug and are watching The Polar Express. A-fucking-gain! And actually, when I say that he is watching the movie I mean that he is schlepping massive amounts of toys from his messy ass room in to the living room, while managing to simultaneously drive his multiple choo-choo-trains (equipped with absolutely the most annoying bell I have ever heard) around and still occasionally glare at me, as if to say “Dammit woman, don’t you DARE turn off that movie or I swear by Santa, I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL!”. Ah, I love Sundays…

Last night, while the little big one and I were at my sister’s house for some deliciously homemade (read: DiGiorno) pizza, The Fella unexpectedly stopped in to notify me that he was barbecuing and that yes, I would eat some steak and of course that HELL YES!, he is occasionally awesome out of the blue. I only wish I’d taken pictures of the feast (but the thought of even doing this, busting out my camera over something as simple as a fucking meal that I did not have to cook and that did not, I repeat DID NOT, come from a can, seemed totally ignorant. Also, he would have totally made fun of me for hours) so I could post them here, if for no other reason than I could use them at a later date to prove to my mother and my tiny (tiny) readership that yes, we do eat non-canned food.

Today, after I perform my usual routine of dicking off on the internet until at least noon, I’m sewing. My sister, I think, might even pop in after church (you know, provided she’s not at the VF) to help out which I will most definitely have to photograph because the girl, bless her little heart, does not have a crafty bone in her body and if what we’re doing isn’t wrapped in hairspray, caffeinated soda, babies, soap operas, or country music, she’s not going to give two shits about it. I’m also adding to the store. Seriously dudes. I’ve put it off long enough and my hysterical worrying that no one will like me has gotten out of hand so I might as well show some initiative and cut that shit off before it continues. And really people, it’s that or continuing to memorize the damn movie while dreaming of going to the North Pole via Amtrack and slicing Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick’s throat.

Stick around people…

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