Got in at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. Traffic in Minneapolis as expected, but it felt good to drive in the Lowry tunnel again. I've eaten my face off in unhealthy food from my parent's freezer, taken the dog for a walk, painted my toenails bright red. Ate something my dad called a "fart bar" which lived up to its name, lived up to its name for a good four hours.
Ran four miles this morning on Albertville's unshaded sidewalks. I'm going school shopping tomorrow, for Travis, who refuses to come. My mom has given me her check card and his pants and shoe sizes, so I'll decide what the kid is going to look like for 7th grade while he sits at home and plays Wii for 14 hours straight.
This afternoon, my mom came up the stairs and said what the hell do you have? Is that a baby bottle? to the dog, and when I looked over, he was chewing a douche bag. She realized what is was--not hers, my sister's from under the bathroom sink [pause a moment while we all THROW UP]--and yelled at him and took it away. I just pretended not to notice all of it and silently laughed. My back was to her. What kind of gross-o uses a douche? She doesn't even leave the house. How does anything all up in there get dirty?
Might as well just shove a soap on a rope in there and wait for infection.
Oh, man, that's fucking disgusting.
Same shit, different outfit.
1 comment:
Oh my god. I was enjoying this post until the end when I began wishing I hadn't read this as soon as I got into work in the morning. Ew.:) Glad to have you back closer to me! Well, still far, but closer!
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