I've learned to NEVER. TOUCH. MY. BANGS. It only ends in tears.
{{{{Gloomcookie}}}}
The cupcakes went over very well at the punkymoms playdate today. As did Owen's "They Shake Me" t-shirt.
I'm tired and DH is probably in Chicago by now. Enjoying a free cocktail reception by the Casualty Actuarial Society. And he'll be sleeping in a Westin bed tonight. The bastard. *sigh* It's all for the job. He's promised me unlimited foot rubs when he gets back home.
I've learned to NEVER. TOUCH. MY. BANGS. It only ends in tears.
I'm actually quite good (or, at least, not cringe-inducing) at trimming my bangs. Though I try not to, b/c my stylist is better, obviously.
I have to go attack the sentient bathroom mold with bleach, and I don't wanna. The sentient mold scares me.
I'm actually quite good (or, at least, not cringe-inducing) at trimming my bangs. Though I try not to, b/c my stylist is better, obviously.
I don't think I have sharp enough scissors.
If we don't hear from you before bedtime. Steph, shall we send a rescue party?
If we don't hear from you before bedtime. Steph, shall we send a rescue party?
Send them with torches. I think the sentient mold fears open flame.
Now stop right there, missy. You are not, I repeat NOT, to clean your bathroom by means of arson!
Is it bad form to lay money on the sentient mold?
(Backdraft style- whoosh)
"What are you doing in there?"
"Cleaning."
My mother would think I'm trying to get Tommy Gavin.
I know we were Katrina-news free for a while, but I was just reading this article on the mold problem the affected areas are facing in the wake of the floods.
[link]
The way mold is discussed in the article, it nearly sounds sentient, for real.