Carly is not my Grandma

Oh, Anonymous.
You crack me up.
And it seems that you should really be doing some research (a.k.a, read the back issues (a.k.a, check the archives)) to uncover such treasured secrets as:
1. Carly is my sister. Sometimes she does laundry.
2. Grandma plays a game called "I make the best Christmas cookies EVER" and occasionally "Grandpa doesn't know about my Talbots charge card. Don't tell him I just bought a new sweater set!"
3. My mom can understand the allure of "tats."
4. When it's Sunday, my father usually has some kind of statement to make on the state of our house/priest/union.
5. My boyfriend, Matt, wastes gas and spends obscene amounts of money. All the time.
6. Halloween (the holiday, not the person) and I are in a big fight until further notice.

NOTE: This is an update. (Shame on me for leaving her off. Good catch, Anon.) Monica is a friend through Jesus. She tells the best stories (about suppositories and drinking and Dr. Phil) and she makes a most excellent muse. She will also likely never read this blog.
Sniffle.