I recreated my second grade confiscated recreation of the Last Supper.
You’re welcome.

Weeks are long.  Sundays are dirty.  Let’s relive it together.

This week, there was nothing lazy about Sunday.  Which is why I’m posting this Monday from my bed.

We spent the entire weekend landscaping.  I bought 20 bags of mulch, which, as far as I was concerned, was enough to mulch the whole planet.  Wall to wall mulch.  Turns out, much like King Size Kit Kats, bags of mulch never go as far as you think they will.  So then I had to go buy 20 more bags of chopped up wood to put on the ground.  America is so weird.

I am in the wrong business.

On the plus side, I have a sweet tan, I can’t lift my arms above my waist, and I had to walk Jude through hooking my bra for me this morning.   He’ll either be in therapy or thanking me when he finds himself in a closet for seven minutes with a girl.

For starters, I was in the Detroit Free Press yesterday.  I had absolutely no idea when this was even running, until my dad called to ask me how many more national publications I would be appearing in half naked.  I am suddenly inspired to make it into Playboy.  Click here to check it out.

Last week I also shared with you how to save $20 by making your own circle scarf and rewriting the DaVinci Code,  and also why I am probably getting excommunicated from my church.

I found lots of other fun stuff online, too!  Like a million awesome uses for a pothole, and if anyone is interest, I am totally doing baptisms in the one in front of the post office later this week.  See mom, you said they were full of car oil and street pee, but they’re not.

(Speaking of religion, if anyone is getting married soon and would like me to officiate, I totally can, seriously, and I promise I won’t even be super drunk on white russians.)

There’s this girl I love named Becky.  This is one of the reasons I love her.  There are loads of other reasons, but they just get creepy.

OMG SPOKEY DOKEYS!  Why does everything just suck now?

This is how I make all my friends, and it’s never awkward, ever.

This is my new favorite shirt.  Andy won’t let me wear it to his company picnic.

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