Used in a sentence: "I am covered in shrimp cavatappi because Kelley unexpectedly speryked all over me."
|Pretty sure those antlers are real.|
(Thanks for judging, Kelley!)
Now on to some bath stew...
Can we please talk about baths now? Aren't baths kind of gross? For the first few minutes that you or your child is in the bath, fine. No harm there. As the water turns from scalding to lukewarm, there straight-up are some bacteria in there from which you need to escape. Get your hind-end outta there and protect yourself from yourself! Last night I was determined I was going to finish my People magazine and wasn't getting out of the bath until I did. Friends, the Sun Maid arrive in my bathroom. She had a really big red box and she was trying to stuff me inside it. I told her I thought that was ridiculous. She told me that raisins do not make good mothers and I was no longer of any use to my family. She thinks she knows so much because she's 96 (see the pictures below). Besides the risk of being stuffed into a red box and turning into a shriveled grape, maybe baths should not be taken because you are just floating in dead skin stew. When your bath is no longer giving you second degree burns, you might as well be sitting in the middle of a huge porcelain cooking pot. Somebody needs to stir you up and put you in a bowl. The thing that gets me through it all is the thought that a long time ago, people took baths in the dang river. I mean...talking about stew. That's snake, fish, turtle, bug, salamander and frog stew in which those people washed their locks. The baths in our whirlpool tub suddenly seem so pure. It's a good thing, because I am filthy after a day spent at with my little dudes & I need to finish up War & Peace tonight. I'm on page 2.
I leave you with the Sun Maid's progression over the years starting with Lorraine there in 1915. Somebody take that nice lady's basket. She's 96 years old!
Somebody had some plastic surgery, youknowwhati'msayin?