Please stop blogging on your lunch hour. Friday night rewrites after 6:00pm and a nice cuba libre are fine, as far as that goes, but I think all five of your readers worry you're actually pro-Hillary. Gotta work on the lunchtime snark. Time to head over to Doggette's place for a remedial course. She certainly is the Mistress of Snarkasm.
Thanks, Erica! See you in Helen...
[side note to my note to myself: stop splitting infinitives. -ed]
Also, keep a sharp eye on Erica. She's trying to get on your good side, but I think she's up to something and I think it involves mud on the riverbanks of Helen. Why else would she nominate me for something so prestigious as this?
Updated Link-love: to the Gunslinger. She packs heat with both hands and with her keyboard. That her blog kicks is a given.
And another thing. When there are bloggers who write stuff like this, why do I even bother?
You could just scroll and scroll through her posts reading one gem after another until you awake from your self-hating reverie to realize you are in front of your blogger dashboard with the screen popup saying, "delete your blog?"
While dropping my son off at a homecoming football game this weekend, Chris rolled his window down and advised him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
As Devon was walking into the crowd of people in line, he retorted over his shoulder, "And where would I do that? The bleachers?"
He never learns.
I rolled down the passenger window and screamed, "If it was good enough for me and your father, it's good enough for you!"
Poor kid. He simply has no choice but to be dazzling in order to to survive high school with a mother like me.