Himself got the memo this week. And the Boy’s hours were cut. I’m not panicking yet, but then again I haven’t checked my 401K statement lately nor have I zillowed my house. I am, however, starting to develop and nurture a rabid hatred of all the Wall Street wizards and fucktards (pardon my french) who put us in this position. And here I mean the collective, capital U “us”, not the individual “us”.
Sorry. I had to get that out.
In happier news, the Boy has a girlfriend. One day he announced “I’m not the boss of me anymore”, and he’s been twitterpated ever since.
I think this is a GREAT idea for an Academy Awards viewing party, but alas, I neither go to the movies much nor am I at ALL interested in watching the Academy Awards. So I pass it on in hopes that someone will do it and not be as lame as me.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned once or twice the Aspergers-like behavior displayed by both the Boy and Himself. Go over to Earwig Sandwich and read a little bit of what’s it’s like to be me. Except for the cooking part. No one would EVER hire me to cook for them. Even if they had Aspergers.
My name is Kellypuffs, and I’m addicted to Dunkin Donuts’ coffee. I don’t know why. I’m not even especially proud of it, but there it is.
And I share my home with a fair trade, organic, fresh milled, not ground, brewed in a vintage Bunn coffee snob, who prides himself on making The Perfect Cup of Coffee. Nope. Not good enough for ME. Every morning, no matter how bitterly cold, in the middle of BLIZZARDS, I make the pilgrimage to my local Dunks and get a lahge regulah. Back when he really loved me, HImself would even go out and pick it up for me occasionally. Once in a while, the Boy or the Girl could be bribed into bringing one home.
But that may all be changing.
Refusing to accept defeat, through years of tireless experimentation, Himself this morning came incredibly close to being able to create a credible and acceptable instantiation of a Dunkin Donuts lahge regulah. Something Paolo does effortlessly and with great speed every morning, I might add. But, yet, being the earthy-crunchy wannabe that I am, I am painfully aware of my wantonness, and am willing to compromise in order to benefit the earth and our finances.
As long as it tastes the same.