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Archive for March, 2010

April = dislike

(Like I need to remind myself, right?   Riiiiiiiight)

Stepdad.    FIL.    Mum.      All died within that same four-week period.

April 29 will mark the end of this ‘season of sadiversary’.

So…can I skip to May please?

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(watching movie,  snoozing….but eventually and reluctantly had to get out of bed because we have to feed Puppy and change laundry and do other Horribly Mundane Stuff…..  however Puppy is laying on J’s lower legs and he cannot really move)

(I get up, and say the magic words to Angel Puppy –  “Do you know what time it is?!”)

(she raises her head sharply,   jumps up and follows me into the kitchen – she knows what those words actually mean)

(“Mommy has NOMS!”)

(I do the Peter Panda Dance in the kitchen, to encourage her further)

Joe:     OMG

Me:    …um….

Joe:     I thought that was so CUTE!

Me:     I thought you weren’t watching….

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Us-ness. And chips.

BEST surprise of the night EVER:

(He was gone a Rather Long Time tonight because it’s our friend’s birthday;   unfortunately my back pain – which caused me to actually call #1 and ask if she had anything to spare, pain-med wise…and that’s just so not me – is at about a 9 and I just couldn’t go)

Joe is on the bed, eating chips.   I’m working.    I ninj over, attempting to covertly steal a chip or two.     I surreptitiously remove two single chips from the bag…and quietly munch, hoping not to attract attention.   OMG.   They’re NOT the boring “plain” variety, as I had first thought.    They are sour cream and onion!     NINJAWENCH SCORE!

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FWIW

One of my nephews is a little shit.

That is all.

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Dear Mr Dyson

Look.

I’m a fellow Brit.

But your commercials still freak me out.

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I haz a proud

So today….

#1 is basically being Supermom.     #2 gave up smoking.      Joe went to donate plasma for the first time today, despite a huge fear of needles.

Go Family!

(#3 acted as a contraceptive device, incidentally.    In case you were wondering)

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Home


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Joe:    So…would a Greek cow say, “mu”?

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Don’t breed what you can’t feed!

Good grief.

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Dear Joey Fatone

It’s spelled Chloé.

Not Kloey.

Please, don’t do this to your child.

Thanks,

Tee.

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