Boob Club

Tonight at...er...Booze Club...Un-Book Club we discussed this:

over this:

Inside Edition: Pasta Express

My bottom line review:
I watched noodles slouch. It might not be faster, but it's way more fun than making them in a pot. Unless your pots are clear.

Mind, Intestines in Equal Atrophy

Still here. Still sick.
If you need a better measure of my ill health... I am watching Steve Harvey reruns.
Recent Google searches:

• dysentery
  
• why do babies drool when they get new teeth?
• what can I eat that won't make me sick?
• will anything fix this scratch on my glasses for free, because even though I am still under warranty, Lens Crafters will make me pay $90?
• other things I can stuff in the boob part of the dress
• healing power of popsicles

Send help.

The Ignominious Poo

I'm home!
[Gurgle.]
Excuse me.
That must be the explosive diarr...wait, Matt hates that word. But since he's headed back out of town again right now, I can tell you that I cannot get further from a toilet thanthis.
Luckily it hit after our trip to the Land of Weak Plumbing, intensive-labor, and little sleep.

And then it was Saturday. Jason and Makenzie got married. We took lovely pictures of their farm nuptials. It was all very sweet.
Until 11 pm, CST, when the walls of the Blue Earth AmericInn rumbled, nay, roared with my bowel movements.
Which reminds me:

Dear Blue Earth AmericInn,
Please consider installing fans in your bathrooms. If not for odors, than surely for sound privacy.
Thank you.

KFC: Making America Fat, Faster

We're heading down to Juarez again. The 28-hour bus trip (No, I'm not inflating. It takes longer to get down) to El Paso includes regular stops for re-fueling our bodies. It's a very strenuous ride, you know. We burn a lot of calories, sitting and squirming.
This year I will to eat fewer things that make me feel sick and thus, I vow not to eat one of these.

Tessburger the Trampolining High School Graduate

Everyone Is Doing It

"I need some long-range goals, Carly."
"Ha! Wait, I just spit so much I need to wipe it up. [Incoherent advice given here.] I wanted to set some short range goals so I get through the day without jumping off the top of Campiello. Then I realized that it's only one story and I don't even know how to get up there."

Crushing Entrepreneurial Spirits Worldwide

Whether I have money or not, I rarely stop. But nothing makes me feel like an awful old hag more than passing by a lemonade stand.
"Lemonaaaayyyeeeed! Twentyfiveceehhhhnts!"
"Eh. Sorry!"

Freedom Ringing

The man best known for dressing in a fat suit and starring as a Big Momma was given way too much credit today:
"I'd like to be a radiologist."
"Dang, this girl has a dream...It's like Martin Lawrence said..."

Anchors, Away! But not by the hydrangea, please.

Love is all about compromise. Which reminds me of a story told by a kid with an awesome lisp: "Compromishing. Compromishsing is like when you have a whole Schnickers Bar, and you schare it with your friendsh."
I told Matt the other night that I don't want a lake house. That it sounds like a nightmare, actually, might have been what I said. I realize that we're counting a lot of unhatched poultry here, but I just wanted to be up-front.
And in the spirit of give-and-take, I wouldn't mind getting a boat for the driveway.