I had dinner with two of my three brothers last night. I thought for sure I'd have a fantastic blog this morning because those fuckers are hysterical, right? RIGHT? Denied. It's like they're TRYING to thwart my aspirations to have one single coherent and mildly amusing post this week. Fuckers.…
Please Tell Me That White Stuff is Glitter
My favorite voicemail, which I just can't bring myself to delete, is from my mom. There's no greeting, no introduction, no pleasantries, just one sentence: "Just wanted to tell you it's fucking snowing here." Sing it, sistah. Someone please tell me that it's not really still snowing. Tell me that…
Sock Puppets (and Other Lonon Excerpts)
Although Dad's retirement party was snowed out, we still managed to keep ourselves entertained. Drew and Kate even made it out from Durham. The conversations only get worse when you add in another brother. You HAVE to be getting tired of these little fly-on-the-wall excerpts, but I just can't stop…