“Henry didn’t cook for me again; I had to have frozen pizza.
”
“Well, that’s better than nothing. Last time he didn’t cook for you, you didn’t eat anything at all!” Kim laughed as she went to heat up her delicious home-cooked meal.
It took me longer to figure out how to turn the box into a pizza cooker than it took to actually cook the fucker. I was so angry and near-tears by the time I was done, and the muscles in my hands hurt from tearing perforations and folding over flaps.
Tonight, I was daydreaming about going to jail. Just to hang out, you know? (And no, not on conjugal visit day! OK, maybe.) Walk in with a magazine and read aloud some Hollywood gossip while inmates do push ups around me.
Once I murder Henry, I suppose I’ll have a whole lot of time to do that.
Eleanore said inmates smear shit on the walls.
i was all in for starting a mexican prison gang with you until i heard what eleanore said…
ew, mexicans? GROSS.
BUT- POOP IS OK?!?!?!?!
Well, yeah. If we’re just LOOKING at it.
Gah, Erin, I love you.
Oh I also joined the wordpress fam.
I see that! I put you on my Blogroll. I’m happy to have a friend here!
Hey, you should come to my photo shoot. I don’t know when it will be yet, but sometime soon I hope.