cooking meth in his car
That sounds like a Darwin Award waiting to happen.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
cooking meth in his car
That sounds like a Darwin Award waiting to happen.
Why, WHY did I open the H1N1 flu vaccine can-o-worms on FB? When I have 458 friends with a *wide* range of personalities and beliefs? It's like I just discovered the Internets. ::headdesk::
And I imagine if you used exactly those words you might have a good way of getting through to her.
Hmm. Good point. "REAL princess don't hit their loyal or non-loyal subjects with lunchboxes."
I have just ordered my first real corset thanks to that evil link that was posted yesterday!
cooking meth in his car
Dude. Wait 'til you get home like everyone else.
"REAL princess don't hit their loyal or non-loyal subjects with lunchboxes."
That's right. If you can't get a minion to do it for you, you aren't really a princess.
This may be entered into the extensive evidence list of why I shouldn't be a parent.
"No, you are not allowed to pay people to smack others with candy. No, not even Reese's."
Hey, does anyone have a good slow cooker pot roast recipe? All the ones I'm finding so far involve cream of mushroom soup.
I always thought that's exactly how princesses act.
Since there doesn't seem to be any way to totally block the absorption of princess culture via daycare osmosis, I've taken to explaining to Matilda that a princess has to be try her hardest to be smart, kind and brave, because a princess will someday be a queen and have a whole country to take care of, and queens who are stupid or mean or wicked tend to get eaten by dragons or tumble down rocky crevasses in the middle of a howling storm. The only bratty princesses are wicked stepsisters, and they too tend to get eaten, or turned into stone or sometimes merely banished for life.
Nora, I usually just put my post roast in a slow cooker with a chopped onion, a few carrots, a bay leaf, one or two chopped garlic cloves, salt and pepper, and half a bottle of wine. Then I let it cook until the meat's falling apart. It usually comes out pretty well.
Since there doesn't seem to be any way to totally block the absorption of princess culture via daycare osmosis, I've taken to explaining to Matilda that a princess has to be try her hardest to be smart, kind and brave, because a princess will someday be a queen and have a whole country to take care of, and queens who are stupid or mean or wicked tend to get eaten by dragons or tumble down rocky crevasses in the middle of a howling storm. The only bratty princesses are wicked stepsisters, and they too tend to get eaten, or turned into stone or sometimes merely banished for life.
JZ, you should write a parenting book!
I second the motion. Also, she gets a cupcake.