Crossing my fingers that Adrienne Arpel's family gives her the gift of (even MORE) plastic surgery for Christmas.
Mr. G called me at work yesterday afternoon to tell me that the plastic guard on the
freezer door shelf had broken and a bag of frozen grapes came spilling out.
[Yes, these are the breathlessly exciting kinds of calls I get from my sweetie pie.]
I said, "Oh, shit. I just scrubbed that floor last night."
He said, "Don't worry. I got it all cleaned up."
(This is what I usually refer to as 'famous last words'.)
I walked into the kitchen last night, took one step onto the linoleum and my entire foot stuck to the floor.
Took me right back to good old days of porno theaters....
So was I angry about the mess? Good gosh, who wouldn't be?
Did I rant and rave about it? Well, golly wouldn't it try the patience of a saint?
Could I possibly--sorry. Apparently Donald Rumsfeld has influenced me more than I thought.
I had to zip into the grocery store before work this morning and when I was in the paper products aisle,
I noticed this on the side of a package of double roll toilet paper: "12 double rolls = 24 single rolls"
So now I must ask: are we so damn dumb in this country that we can't figure this out for ourselves?!
I saw an ad for the Kenny Rogers holiday tour, and I have a question: can you legitimately bill your spouse as a "special guest star"? Probably for tax write-off purposes...