For the past week, I’ve been doing this really obnoxious thing where I brag about how awesome I am. Mostly this has been happening at work. Anytime I know the answer to something, trivial as it might be, I get all sore-winnerish and shout about how my innards are made of awesome.
"Did you just make coffee?"
"Uh, yes. Because I’m full of awesome."
I bet it’s really charming to be on the other side of that.
Tonight, I was telling Christina about how my son has been a little asshole lately. "He keeps grinding his teeth, and when I tell him to stop, he fixes his eyes on mine in a stubborn glare and does it harder," I complained.
"You know what they say," she schooled. "Your kids end up being two times what you are."
"So Chooch is double stuft with awesome?" I asked.