Then Victor and I were both like “MAYOR McCHEESE!” and it was kind of like when you find an old friend but he’s laying in a coffin and then someone tells you you look fat and then they stab you in the leg. It was exactly like that. Antique stores are assholes.
This week on my sex column (which is satirical and vaguely safe for work if your boss isn’t a douche-canoe):
This week on Good Mom/Bad Mom on the Houston Chronicle:
This week on the internets:
- Babble named me the second best twitter mom to follow. I would have been number one if I had murdered the Pioneer Woman last year but I didn’t because she’s adorable. And because she lives too far away. Mostly the last one.
This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:
- Clients from hell
- If I were an eskimo
- “For those slightly more evil, we have the option of being turned into rats and being chased by what appears to be a high school mascot.”
- “Maybe add a comma there…’cause that status is awkward.”
- Not funny. Just awesome.
- Hungover owls
- Fuck yeah, dioramas
- And that’s why I prefer trains.