That poor bastard

That face is oddly familiar…salno

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What a man!

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Maybe I’m alone on this “perfect make up gift” idea, but no matter. The whole confirmation of the “married to a great man” thing happened yet again after a huge screaming fight on Friday night. Husband went to three different resale stores on Saturday morning to find and purchase this apology token. I don’t even know which disgusting disaster I should attempt to replicate first.

“Stop” is right. Christ.

ewpI was going to make a snide comment about how barfy it was when my mom put butter on my pb & j sandwiches but butter+thousand island dressing wins the Oscar for Most Unhappy Combination in a Michael Bay Movie even before the two varieties of canned fish, pickle, and onion consideration. Just fart into a bun, you’ll get the same results.

Also, here’s a counter-tip for the picnic-happy people…folks are already calling you ‘picnic-happy.’ Don’t exacerbate your current public image by pushing around a 2-wheel fold-up grocery cart.

This blob is seconds away from melting into a facsimile of Slimer from Ghostbusters

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*lowers newspaper* “Barbara, do you remember last summer when we went to the Millers’ for lunch and they served that lime Jell-o shit with the spattering of peas and tomatoes with some really ashamed-looking shrimp?”

“Yes.”

“We should go egg their house.”

“I’ll get the dead raccoon out of the trash. Go start the car.”