Spot, on Po! I definitely ALWAYS bring food.
Oh it doesn’t count if I already ate the food? And I’m bringing it in my belly?
Then, neither. I bring neither.
You suck at this, Po.
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Stupid Shit Zack Does
Less than two weeks ago, I received the following text from Zack:
So, being the good, caring sister that I am, I gave the appropriate dramatic, concerned response.
We then proceeded to have an in depth, highly detailed and descriptive discussion of his symptoms. Niagra Falls was used as a metaphor to describe the intensity. And, again, like a good, caring sister, I listened and offered sympathy.
Flash forward 13 days, he sent me this video of his dinner tonight:
No. I’m out.
It’s Like I Always Say– Nothing Good Happens After 9pm
Last night….
Fair. And true.
But this is exactly the kind of hazardous situation I find myself in when I linger in society past sundown– two young people were having a perfectly lovely first date and I interrupted it, arms flailing, screaming, “Little Michael?!?! Is that YOU?!?!?”
Zero chance he got laid after that.
I’m never leaving the couch again.
Sorry, Little Michael.
(For interrupting your date. And for calling you “Little Michael.” Last night and in this post. Also, sorry about this post).
Things That Scare the Shit Out of Me, Part 2
(Related to Things That Scare the Shit Out of Me )
Holy crap, guys. My life is the movie Groundhog Day.
When Eric Makes the Bed, Part 4
(Part if the When Eric Makes the Bed series) 
Things That Scare the Shit Out of Me
According to Facebook, exactly 8 years ago to this day, I said the following:
I said the same fucking thing this morning.
#notgood
Germ Protection
I know some teachers who are so traumatized by their germ-infested classrooms during cold/flu season that they wash every single item of clothing they wear, every single time they wear it. Which is completely ridiculous.
I burn mine.
I Deserved That
Eric (while cutting up the duck he cooked for dinner tonight): “Ugh, this duck is so fatty.”
Me: “That’s ok. I like my duck how I like my men” (cue laughing at my own joke).
Eric: “Well, good. Because I like my duck how I like my women.”
(20 second silence as he eats a few vegetables, cuts some more duck, takes a sip of water)
“…cunty.”
Old People PSA
Dear Old People,
You are no longer allowed to use self checkout.
Look, it’s not an ageist thing. It’s a me not wanting to be responsible for kicking you in the face thing. I have a hard enough time in society as it is– I don’t want to also have to explain to people why I went ahead and kicked an old lady in the face that one time. No one would understand. Unless they were here with me, right now, in this CVS, watching you take FIFTY YEARS to ring up ONE can of Fancy Feast cat food. (Of COURSE you have a cat. You are KILLING ME.)
So that’s it. No more self check out. K?
Great.
Oh Christ. Is that a checkbook?!
The Mall
Me: “We have a wedding in DC July 2nd. Mark your calendar.”
Eric: “Oh, so we’ll be in DC for July 4th?”
Me: “Yeah. We can do fireworks at the mall!”
Eric: “Why, do they have a good mall there?”
Me: “I’m not sure if you’re serious.”
Eric: “Mall of America?”
Me: “I’m nervous.”
Eric: “Great Mall of China?”
Me: “What is happening.”
Eric: “Mall and Oates?”
Fairly confident he doesn’t know the mall I’m referencing, and is just trying to change the subject.
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