Well I NEVER…
Mix whiskey and wine.
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You know how I know I’m…Uh…In favor of Prop 19?
It’s like…I’m inside… a giant, glass, of waaater, I thought, standing motionless in the shower, Saturday night.
Yeeeahhh. Akin to the moment of realization that you are finally falling asleep, it is when the crazy, arduous to articulate thoughts begin that you also know you’re…
Uh…
That you’re…
…
What was I typing about?
Word to the wasted.
No pills or powders –
On “school nights.”
That’s just plain irresponsible.
Journey to the Center of my Pantry.
It was not a culinary adventure, so much as a junk food kamikaze mission that I went on last night. A taste experience far from worthy of the abdominal definition sacrificed.
Baked goods, mannn.
“Just Say” un – uh. “No.” At least to keepin’ ‘em in the house. Because even when you plan on taking no more than a fourth at a time –
The next thing you know, a whole cookie is gone and you’ve eaten half a bag of tortilla chips, dipped in taco sauce as if it were an adequate substitute for salsa.
Oof. Proud moments, those. Proud, proud moments.
“Honest, Officer. My eyes are always this red.”
Nothing quite like eating blueberry pie with your fingers as you idle in the McDonald’s drive thru lane to make you rethink the carmel sundae you were planning to order.
Juuust kidding.
I was all over that thing, too.
