Exactly. I mean, that’s it. That face. Lately that is how I feel about everything. Nutella on toast, clean sheets, successfully finding videos of that gay-for-pay kid on the latest Real World.
Bitch, please. The new Calypso collection at Target?
Totally. Then there’s the fact that our lease is up next month but we don’t want to sign another year lease because we are looking to buy a house again but our landlord won’t let us go month-to-month because I have no idea why. FYI? I have a c-section scheduled for June 2. We have to be out by end of June.
Plus one of these brought to you by the good people at The Hormones Responsible for the Nesting Instinct-ute.
Yesterday was the first ultra sunny happy summer day so we went to the beach just like the family behind us and on either side of us sitting too close, families everywhere with coolers and sand, sandy kids that were not at all cool. Then the family right in front of us pitched a tent, an actual real live tent with sticks and everything and I was all,
And Bryan was all,
And Zoey was all,
I mean, why go to the beach if you’re just going to sit inside of a nylon tent all day eating potato chips?
Of course about 20 minutes later I was hot, too hot, the 8 inches of dank skin hidden now beneath my humongous boobs all sweaty and sandy and I told Bryan I was going to buy a beach tent online as soon as we got home. And I did.
What?
I would die 4 U (but I would nevah evah B anyone’s surrogate, just so we're clear),
The Artist Formerly Known as Petunia Face
