For my friend, National Tax Fraud Hotline. Call 24/7. 1-800-275-3332. You may be entitled to whistleblower compensation!
These last few days have been magical. No, not like Harry Potter magical (we don’t read those because JK Rowling is Satan’s sister), but magical magical. You know….that kind of magical. Saturday my husband took the kids and I to a child’s anniversary of birth party. Nestled in downtown Mesa it was within the confines of an indoor amusement park. The hostesses had arranged for a seasonal fresh pizza broil, and we sat around whilst eating freshly harvested and broiled bread, cheese, and pepperoni. A mess was Footlongs with dollops of sauce covering his countenance, but my husband cleaned him off. My husband is wonderful. I so love my husband. My husband and I then took sweet 6-inch to ride the animatronic circular equine ride. Look around in sheer amazement he did as the animatronic, brightly colored equine replica moved up and down rhythmically and in a circle to boot. I would have taken a photo, but AZ law states it is illegal to use your cell phone whilst in motion. You know. To save lives and all. I’m pro-life, you know. You didn’t know? Now you do. You’re welcome!
Sunday was spent with me at the local organic farmer’s market. My husband told me not to spend too much money. I don’t know what his problem is. Doesn’t he realize that debit cards have no limit whereas cash is gone when you spend it. Being the submissive wife I am I slapped him then went to do my shopping and practice frugality over wantality. Organic red quinoa was $4 more a box than the regular quinoa so I bought the red stuff. It’s the color of my hallway. I also bought an assortment of seeds, nuts, nutbutters, seedbutters, seednuts, nutseeds, etc. You get the idea. I was out of my beloved free range eggs so I picked up a few chickens in the meat department and plan on planting them so I can grow my own eggs. If my egg trees don’t grow I’m going to buy a chicken and just lay under her all day and let her plop her eggs right into my mouth. We’ll see what happens!
Footlong is doing smashingly in his brick and mortar training facility. He loves kindergarten the sequel! Just yesterday his teacher suggested to me that I just let him jump ahead to high school. I told her we would think about it because he is busy chairing the program of that new rover on Mars. NASA has been calling Footlong constantly asking questions.
6-inch is still acting like a total baby. No, really. I’m not joking. He acts like a real baby. I keep telling him to use his grown-up words to convey his thoughts and wishes, and I am greeted with happily garbled syllables punctuated by squeals. This kid is definitely special needs. I also announced to him, “You are now 13 months old. You need to excrete your urine and feces in the toilet.” A look of total confusion and desperation was his punctuated by the releasing of flatus into his disposable toileting apparatus. He is out to get me. Mark my words. That child will be my undoing.
I leave you today with a few words and ideas: my husband, my husband, my husband, a unicorn shat on my walls, my husband, I’ve lost 900 pounds, my husband, my jeans cost more than your phone bill, my husband, my husband, protein balls, my husband, Instagram, look at my new wallet, my husband, baby wipes have many uses, my husband, Footlong is brilliant, my husband, I have an enormous gut, money, painters, money, vitamins, my husband, bailed from a wagon, my husband, chia seeds, flowcharts, photo, hammertoes, my husband, Jesus, and fupa.
I must go take photos of myself now.