bring on the crank. 

with only 90 minutes of sleep in each of my back pockets i’d be daft to turn down that adderall prescription rumored to be popular with all the neighborhood moms. 

last night my girl gave us another scare with her distended belly, lameness {in both the physical and mental essence,} and vomiting. 

hh and i logged another all-nighter at the vet where, upon arrival, received our  frequent customer punch card, and then proceeded to wait for ——FOR-EVER—— watching terrible foodtv, reading and re-reading old REAL SIMPLE magazines, if anyone wants me to make them halloween monster mash-corned beef hash i’m your girl, and bicker about who’s thursday was more big-league, mine or his, so we  i could determine who was making the bigger sacrifice as both the parent, the partner, and the person.  

it was an easy argument to win—like taking kale from a crack addict. clearly t’was moi. 

after 2 x-rays, hours of waiting, the food tv network reaffirming to me that i hate cooking, and i’m that i’m kind starting to hate chefs {what is up with these egos?—do these people have government clearance that i don’t know about?} the doctor was able to determine what was wrong with our precious, baby girl.



thursday happy to you m’loves.


one half of mr. and mrs. jackass