Two things I was rightfully afraid to look up: skeet and fcf.
Stay off-line, kids. It’s safer away from here.
Two things I was rightfully afraid to look up: skeet and fcf.
Stay off-line, kids. It’s safer away from here.
Does anybody read e-mail in their personal accounts anymore?
I’m checking about once a week.
Less during the holiday spam overload.
Turn cabbage into pizza?
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
The cauliflower crust nonsense was bad enough.
What is wrong with all of you?
Holidays that fall on Wednesday just aren’t working for me anymore.
Why do appetizers taste better when eaten with a fancy toothpick?
Eat a meatball with a fork and it’s like, ok, not bad.
Eat a meatball with a fancy toothpick and it’s like, va-va-va-voom – this is delicious!
Christmas cookies make for an acceptable breakfast for the entire week in which Christmas falls. I said what I said. (Holiday shout-out to Marline who has been graciously filling a ‘Cookies for Santa‘ tray with delicious treats for kitty for almost two decades.)
If you find yourself asking, “Is it me? Am I the problem?” more than once or twice, the answers are likely yes and yes.
When faced with the option of being honest and hurting someone, or simply not speaking and saving someone some heartache, I haven’t always made the noble choice. Especially when pressed.
I’m not an orange. You’re not going to get sweetness if you squeeze me.
{Insert annual rant about the Trader Joe’s parking lot and how everyone’s most rudimentary driving skills suddenly curl up and die when they enter that space.}
Certain gloomy days can only be made right with the addition of a cup of hot chocolate.
Chocolate works wonders on all sorts of worries.
Note to self: when removing your glasses for any reason, keep them in your hands.
Do not put them down anywhere at any time for any reason.
Otherwise you will forget where they are and you will not be able to find them.
You know better than this.
Anyone else getting in the car and driving nowhere just to listen to the ‘Wicked’ soundtrack in the hopes of not driving your husband crazy?
This may be the holiday season I simply give up on my e-mail inbox.
I no longer have the patience to delete 200 messages a day.
Some of us know exactly what’s in this bottle, as seen at a rest stop on the Massachusetts Turnpike.
What I do not know is why it was left by the curb. Have we just given up entirely? A garbage can was a few feet away.