Monday, July 14, 2014


I passive aggressively have not been grocery shopping so that we’ll be forced to eat out, but Husband caught me, and like the submissive and gentle lamb that I am, I went to the grocery store, and then I cooked. Afterwards I bragged about it for an hour and ran a victory lap around the house screaming “COOL RUNNINGSSSSS” while I made Husband play “We Are the Champions” on his phone. But now my visions of Olympic Gold have fizzled because I have to clean the kitchen, and I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS. Also a man ran up behind me and hit me in the knee, and I crumbled to the ground in my white ice skating costume and cried because I might miss the Olympic trials. But really very nearly 2% of this paragraph is true, and you should know that I’ve been watching a lot of documentaries.

Because blog posts need pictures right? Also I used a filter for no reason.

Besides Tonya Harding, the main problem is that I bought all these vegetables, and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to put them. So far tonight, I’ve googled “where to store avocados” and “where to store onions” and “where to store peppers” and I assume you’re catching on and that I don’t need to continue. I already forgot the google answers, so everything is just on the counter and I’m ignoring it and writing a meaningless blog post that is making both you and me a little more stupid. It’s just that I get these big bursts of LAZY and feel I have no choice but to sit on top of the laundry I’m supposed to fold. When will that baby develop more fine motor skills anyway because I could use a little help. (And that sentence started as a question and ended as a statement. And if you think I’m going to change it that means you have a few reading comprehension issues because the theme of this post is LAZY.)

Last week my siblings and I yelled at a lazy susan like, “SUSAN!!!!!!!!!! PASS THE SALT!!!!! SUSAN!!!! YOU ARE SO LAZY!!! SUSAN!!!!” and we thought we were hilarious. But you know I still think it’s funny and really very therapeutic.

In conclusion, here sits Susan, atop a pile of laundry, ignoring a pile of dishes in the sink, and writing meaningless dribble for no apparent reason.

The end.

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