Weeks are long.  Pancakes are God.  Sunday’s are dirty.  Let’s relive it together.

Yesterday we spent the day landscaping and digging out old, overgrown bushes.  I can’t move my arms above my shoulder, and when I took off my bra, a pound of dirt fell to the floor. I want to go ahead and never have to do that again.

This week on highchair critics, I fall in love with spring, only to have it ripped prematurely from my open embrace and sloppy french kisses.

I wrote about porn on Curvy Girl Guide. Yeah, I really have no way to pretty up that sentence.

I gave up pop for Lent.  This has been the first week I haven’t wanted to stab someone.

I’ve spent way more time than I’d like to admit watching this.

Why did the monkey fall out of a tree?

Because it was dead.

Anti-Joke may just be my favorite new website.

Late next week is New Orleans.  My hair is already thrilled. I need a good de-humidifying product.

 

 

 

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