“How much blood will each bag hold?” ~ Victor to a baffled clerk while buying several boxes of black trash bags at a gas station.
And that’s the reason why I will never divorce this man.*
*Both because of his incredibly inappropriate sense of humor and because I suspect he was imagining my blood in the bags.
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And in other news, it’s time for the weekly wrap-up:
What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “Eight pounds of uncut cocaine” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):
What you missed on the internets:
This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:
This week’s wrap-up is sponsored by The Rheel Daze. From the author: “What happens when instead of pursuing your dreams in your twenties, you settle for every bottle of Bacardi you can get your hands on? You end up trying again in your thirties, with half the fervor you possessed a decade ago. That’s Kelly. Still chasing the dream…but at a comfortable pace.”