Ukulele Tuesday? What is the world coming to? It’s COMPLETE ANARCHY under 45.
Or, rather, last Friday every member of my family was exploding from multiple orifices. Turns out that there can be too much puke to uke. Also there can probably be too much discussion of exploding orifices. Sorry about that.
I always feel bate for people when their significant other proposes to them in grand, public, pressure-filled situations – football games, concert stages, social media. I mean, like it isn’t hard enough to tell someone no via text?
And yet, here I am, publicly asking Lola to be my Galentine this year. In song. (Don’t worry. Rocco is cool with it. But not in a Vegas kind of way, k? Let’s just manage expectations here.)
Also, I’m publicly asking if I can run my glasses through the dishwasher. Because I’m pretty sure that’s not just fingerprint smudges making them impossible to see through.
May your Tuesday pass like a Friday. And not like Indian food with a side of prunes and flax. Because that was last week. I hope.
I’m sending you all heart-shaped hand sanitizer and bleach wipes.