Post.  Post.  Posty-post.  Post. Post.

Poop.  Poopy-poop.  Poop.

I got nothing, folks.

Perhaps you would like to hear about my day.  Would you?  Too bad.

Let’s see.  My friend Carrie gave me a bunch of clothes last night.  After my post about not being fabulous, I’ve received a lot of clothing donations.  It’s pretty sweet.  Let’s think about what else I need.  If anyone’s got a smaller butt lying around you’re not using…I’ll happily trade you my cellulite for it.  And my crazy, crazy eyebrows.  Sheesh.  While the hair on my head falls out in copious amounts in the shower, my eyebrows are having a freakin’ free-for-all on my face.  Calm down, eyebrows.

Disclaimer:  My husband wants everyone to know that we can afford for me to buy my own clothes.  (I just don’t have to now!  Wheee!)

So, Evie and I had a fashion show this morning with the new-to-me clothes.  I tried on a pair of kick-ass Express jeans that fit me like a glooove.  A looove glooove.  We were at the mall today, so I stopped in Express to see what I could do to get me some more.  What I can do is slap down 100 smackeroos.  No thanks.  Do you know what I could get at Ikea for $100, teenaged salesperson?  No, of course you don’t.  Bless your heart.  I like your sweater, though.

I also made a chocolate pie for a family Christmas celebration at church tomorrow night.  The name of the pie is Foot Pie.  Fifty bucks to the first member of my family who tells us how it got its name.  And…go!

Evie wore a black leotard and black tights to her dance class tonight.  She looked about 16-years-old.  Terrifying.  I planted my fabulously-jeaned butt on the floor outside the classroom only to realize I could barely get back up again.  Fabulously-jeaned butt, meet Wendy’s number 2 combo with a Diet Coke.  It was a delicious dinner, though, and I had only chicken noodle soup for lunch and three sneak-bites of Foot Pie filling.  And we got lots of exercise walking around the mall trying to find Express as well as while looking aghast at the price tags in the dressing room.  Looking aghast burns many calories.

Speaking of weight loss plans, I’m trying to increase my water intake because adequate water intake is beneficial in so many ways and because pee should not be that color.  I often get on Evie because she waits so long to go to the bathroom.  By the time she finally decides she has to go, she’s jerking and dancing around like she’s just been struck by lightning, and we have to all out run to the nearest facility.  I tell her not to wait so long that it becomes an emergency.  I should take my own advice.  Thanks to Evie, however, I already know where all the bathrooms in the mall are.  JCPenney has the nicest.

American Horror Story is sitting on the DVR, waiting for me.  Oy.  What will happen this week that I will never be able to unsee?  How can the actors on that show make eye contact with each other between takes?  Was that Chloe Sevigny in that hospital bed last week?  And sweet mother of Zachary Quinto, how much farther will that plotline go?  Just kill her already so I don’t have to take a shower after every episode.

Okay.  Posty-post.  Post.  Done.

I told y’all.

 

 

 

 

 

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