Fancy drinks and lucky toasts

Everyone, please enjoy your holiday weekend. Do as Leah’s mom* suggests and wear pots on your head if you are in a shootin’ kind of neighborhood. No handling fireworks unless you are a carny, and stay away from all the ucky carbs in the potato salad. I always pick them out.

Earlier this morning I asked “Dear Ethicist: Should I put on pants? Also, is it wrong to eat a second microwave entree if the other one did not fill me up? It was only 230 calories.”

I am still waiting to hear back. Every second he dilly dallies is another that I stay like this. By that I mean taller and happier than you. And thinner, since I eschewed the second entree.

I’m in a punchy mood because Mr. H and I somehow went through a lucky tollbooth a few weeks ago, and things are going right, right, right. We should go back and find that grizzled hillbilly with the friendly eyes and buy him a corn dog. I imagine he took us into his good favor simply because we were the first people that day not to heat up the change with the cigarette lighter before handing it over. Don’t worry, hateraters, because I am sure all this rightness will be followed by a period of wrong, wrong, worst.

For instance, the T in my keyboard starting sticking shortly after receiving good news. When Wheel of Fortune gives you R-S-T-L-N-E, that’s pretty goddamn generous because there are a lot of Ts in words.

I leave you with this summation of everything in my heart:

*Get a blog!

-xxoo

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