Cake, Frosting, Spork, Fred
So, I'm walking into the bakery. Don't judge me, people. Cake was needed. With frosting. For someone else, mind you. And I saw a sign. A perfect sign. An event. With a goat. About a goat. GORDON, I shrieked. Scared the crap out of the little pimple-faced bookworm cheerleader-reject bopping out the door with her ONE (who the hell buys ONE cookie?) cookie in hand. Yes, a goat. On a poster. About a goat event. And....are you ready for this?? I don't have my frigging cell phone to take picture. I have failed my girls. Ladies, it was a total Gordon-festish kinda deal and I got no pic. I would have gone back to the car, retrieved my phone and taken a wondrous photo to share but alas, I had an arm full of cake and a date with destiny. Okay, not destiny. His name was Fred. And it wasn't a date. But it involved moving furniture. And a knife. And singing. Bad singing. While this was a momentous, spine-tingling moment, there was more fun to be had later. Fun, as in stab yourself in the wimmens parts with a frigging Spork kinda fun. I kid you not. I may have to rest tomorrow and avoid the real world. I may be entirely too much for this world. But know this. And never forget it. I was so seriously rocking the hell out of my Honey Boo Boo Child tee shirt, that I seriously felt the earth move a bit in its own wonder and amazement. Well, that movement may have been my dinner making a return appearance after being stuck moving a frigging TV with Fred, the "helpful" neighbor. I might be wrong though. More on that later.
So, I'm walking into the bakery. Don't judge me, people. Cake was needed. With frosting. For someone else, mind you. And I saw a sign. A perfect sign. An event. With a goat. About a goat. GORDON, I shrieked. Scared the crap out of the little pimple-faced bookworm cheerleader-reject bopping out the door with her ONE (who the hell buys ONE cookie?) cookie in hand. Yes, a goat. On a poster. About a goat event. And....are you ready for this?? I don't have my frigging cell phone to take picture. I have failed my girls. Ladies, it was a total Gordon-festish kinda deal and I got no pic. I would have gone back to the car, retrieved my phone and taken a wondrous photo to share but alas, I had an arm full of cake and a date with destiny. Okay, not destiny. His name was Fred. And it wasn't a date. But it involved moving furniture. And a knife. And singing. Bad singing. While this was a momentous, spine-tingling moment, there was more fun to be had later. Fun, as in stab yourself in the wimmens parts with a frigging Spork kinda fun. I kid you not. I may have to rest tomorrow and avoid the real world. I may be entirely too much for this world. But know this. And never forget it. I was so seriously rocking the hell out of my Honey Boo Boo Child tee shirt, that I seriously felt the earth move a bit in its own wonder and amazement. Well, that movement may have been my dinner making a return appearance after being stuck moving a frigging TV with Fred, the "helpful" neighbor. I might be wrong though. More on that later.
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