Fatty Fatty Tuesday


Happy FAT Tuesday everyone!

Since yesterday’s post was long and loaded I figured I’d lighten things up today. As you know, today is FAT TUESDAY and tomorrow is Ash Wednesday which kicks off the celebration of Lent.
Even before I converted to Catholicism I practiced Lent.  Well, more dabbled than practiced, but I liked the idea of sacrificing something in my own life in preparation for Easter Sunday so it generally consisted of giving something up. I remember being really inspired by a friend of mine who gave up chocolate, cheese, AND soda one year in high school. I thought she was bonkers for doing all three at once {I would not survive without cheese} but I decided that since I’m a self-proclaimed chocoholic it would be beneficial to try to give it up. Boost the self-control, cut back on the sugar. Easy enough, right?


While I made sure all of the chocolate was out of the house , there was one thing I forgot about. I had a morning ritual of swinging by the WaWa that was ont he way to school {when I wasn’t running late} and grabbing a cup of coffee. Well, a cup of sugary caramel latte. And so that I didn’t have coffee breath during school I would grab a ‘king size’ Andes mint up at the register.

Andes mint = chocolate.
High school Sara = unable to think clearly before 3rd period.
Lenten chocolate fast = screwed up on day 1.

Yes, I failed my very first Lenten fast by forgetting that Andes mints are not just mints, but CHOCOLATE mints. I’m awesome.

So, since I’d already failed on day 1, I figured I may as well just scrap the whole ‘no chocolate for 40 days’ thing and enjoy the month+ leading up to Easter. Next year I’d try again.

The next year rolled around and I was determined to make my chocolate fast work!
Day 1 of Lent and I’m feeling great about my chocolate-free decision, I’m JUST barely going to make it on time to school so there’s no chance of me “accidentally” eating an Andes Mint from WaWa. So I grab my bag, grab a Slim Fast shake {the breakfast of champion high schoolers who refuse to wake up any earlier than they have to when school starts at 7:25} and am on my way to school. I feel a sense of pride as I come up to the light at the previous year’s point of failure {aka WaWa} and smirk to myself thinking, “I can’t believe I just ‘forgot’ that I was eating chocolate last year – what a bonehead I was”, as I take the last gulp of my Slim Fast shake. My CHOCOLATE Slim Fast Shake. As I choke on that final gulp, realizing that I’d repeated my mistake for the 2nd year in a row, and admitting that I was, in fact, STILL a bonehead, I continued on to school.

You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t just bail on Lent all together that 2nd year, and although there were at least 3 other times in the span of 40 days when I realized I was  accidentally eating chocolate, I did make it to Easter at least TRYING to keep my fast.

Needless to say fasting didn’t really happen for the next few years, and if it did it was interpreted quite loosely.

Now that I’m a confirmed Catholic and far more mature and disciplined than I was in high school, Lent is something I really enjoy participating in, and take pretty seriously. Last year the hubs and I fasted from sweets together. He also fasted from alcohol but since I rarely drink I just stuck with the sugary sweets. It was tough, I was jones-in for sweet tea and Nutella, but we got through it and I went into a full-fledged sugar coma once Easter came around.
This year we’ve decided to cut out the sweets again and as a change of pace I’m going to try to add some things into my daily routine. Prayer is something I could always use more of in my life so that’s one thing I’m really going to highlight over the next 40 days {hopefully forming a pattern that will last far beyond Easter Sunday}. Since I’ve stopped dancing and spend most of my time IN the house with Keelin I’m also going to make a point to increase my physical activity. Thanks to the world of iPhones I’ve added a few yoga and Pilates apps to my phone and plan on setting aside time each day to engage my body. NOT only that, but I’m going to limit the amount of time I have the TV on during the day. When you’re a WAHM it can get kind of boring. No offense to my kid, who is a blast, but 3 hours of playing with tupperware can drain a mama, so it’s not uncommon for me to have something {movie, tv show, etc} playing in the background throughout the day. Keelin has her own Sesame Street time but I’ve been disappointed in myself at how much that background noise has grabbed my main attention over my daughter or my work. No good. Has to change. Commencing change now – well tomorrow.

SO… now it’s your turn to tell me about your Lenten adventures. Are you giving something up? Adding something to your daily routine? Do you have a Lenten FAIL story like mine worth sharing? How do you keep yourself on track for 40 days? TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME!

Until next time…

Don’t forget to join me for the upcoming Link UP Week! A full week of fantastic link ups to help find new blogs, learn about each other, and generally have fun!

link up weekLet me know if you are planning on joining me so I can give you a shout out the week of and check in on your link ups! Here are just a FEW of the link ups you can expect during Link UP week.

It’s Ok Thursday – A Complete Waste of Make Up and Brunch With Amber
Craft-O-Maniac Monday – Craft-O-Maniac
Fill In The Blank Friday – The Little Things We Do
Social Sunday – Ashley’s Carnival Ride and A Complete Waste of Make Up

Do you have a favorite LINK UP that you don’t see on this list? Let me know what it is so I can join in on the fun!

First NEW JOB Funny Story, That Has Really NOTHING To Do With My New Job

As many of you know I have a new job.
It’s a HUGE improvement from the hell hole of terror and fear that I was in before and I’m loving just about everything about it. My coworkers are fantastic, my boss is fun and hysterical, my workspace is open and sunny and while the commute has definitely boosted my road rage, going into the city for work makes me feel like some big shot business woman from a romantic comedy. {Yes, I’m a dork}
While there are plenty of areas to eat within the office, the warm Georgia weather has been calling my name to bask in it’s glory. So, to show respect to Mother Nature, I’ve started taking advantage of the patio on the first floor and have been eating lunch outside. Not only to bask in the Georgia heat but to get a little sun while I’m at it.
Normally people don’t pay much attention to me, probably because I’m sitting alone, wearing sunglasses, with my nose buried in Something Borrowed by Emily Griffin {currently at least}.

A must read!… excited to see the movie once I’m finished!

Every so often someone might approach me to share my table and umbrella or to snag one of the vacant chairs surrounding lonely little me. I always agree with a smile and continue on with my lunch and reading. No big deal. Totally normal. 

That was until a few days ago when I was joined by a very ‘interesting’ character. A character that had me questioning not only the country’s educational system as a whole but a number of other facets of life. 
Now I’ll be the first one to admit that our full interaction isn’t really something I would expect people to be shocked at, but I just wanted to share it with all of you to, once again, see if my internal reaction was totally nuts or totally warranted. 
So, as usual I was sitting by myself, enjoying my lunch, a great book, and the bright shining sun on my shoulders and I noticed there was someone walking towards me. I looked up and saw a real-life fashion train wreck. I’m no fashionista but at least I know this much… a skin tight, black and white, horizontally striped mini-skirt paired with a low cut black tank top with a little flash of purple bra and streaks of red in your hair is the perfect recipe for disaster. I did a pretty good job of keeping my composure but little did I know that my attempt to keep my jaw from wagging open in shock would soon be joined by the need to avoid giving this chick a full-fledged “WTF” face.  
As she gets closer, she points to one of the empty chairs at my table and says, “Uuhhm, can I plop a squat right heeya?”. 
Dear Board of Education,
When people speak this way in grade school, please do not assume that they will grow out of it with maturity or that it’s simply a way to rebel against traditional forms of order. It’s a serious problem that needs to be remedied… BEFORE they are released into the REAL WORLD and expected to make a name for themselves. 
Quit effing things up.
Someone who knows how to speak without sounding like a total bonehead.
So, while keeping my face in check, I simply smiled and said, “Yes, of course.”
Hoping Thinking that was the end of the conversation, I went back to my book but the fashion victim continued her awkward introduction with, “I idn’t {intentionally spelled wrong to fully identify what this girl sounded like} meanta interrrrupt yo lunch o nuthin.”
What I said: “Oh no, you’re fine”
What I wanted to say: “Learn to speak properly before opening your mouth again I’ll be less irritated with your CONTINUED interruptions.”
We sat in silence for a good 10 minutes as I alternated between reading, basking in the sunlight and munching on my PB&J. She was filling out some kind of paperwork, jib-jabbin on her phone and going to town on a bag of pork rinds. {yes, pork rinds} All was well with the world until I switched over from my PB&J to a bowl of cottage cheese and peaches. It’s not for everyone but it’s an all time favorite of mine.  


The Fashion Victim piped up and said, “Is that uuuuhm, that fruit and cream cheese stuff?” 
Cream cheese?
Me {accompanied with a snobby hidden eye roll behind my sunglasses}: “Cottage cheese”
Fashion Victim: “Uggghhh, I hate that stuff but my mama luuuuvs it.”
Me: blank stare. 
I totally understand that everyone has their own opinion when it comes to what you eat but when you have just joined a complete stranger who is obviously content doing her own thing without your spastic commentary, the proper course of action is NEVER to say that what she’s eating is gross. Just some FOOD for thought, friend. 
Soon after our cheese exchange her phone rang and it appeared that whoever she was ‘ploppin a squat’ to wait for had arrived. Drat… 
I was actually a little bummed that I wouldn’t get more material for a witty story-telling blog post until she had gathered her things, stood from the table and proceeded to top off the lunch hour with a conversational WINNER! 
Fashion victim: “Ain’t get ta meet cha but have a good rest o yo day”
Me {unsure of what was actually just said to me}: “Um, thanks. You too?”
And with a flash of her too-tight-for-comfort striped skirt she was gone… and I was utterly satisfied knowing I could take away just enough to compile this sassy post. 
But let’s be serious for a minute. 
I’m not sure where this chick was coming from, or where she was going, but based on the general age of people I normally see coming out of our building with folders in hand and “interview attire” I’d venture to guess that there is some kind of “real world prep” course being offered to students and recent grads interested in getting interview and resume help. If that’s the case I really hope that she wasn’t coming from or going to an interview because anyone in their right mind would turn her away at the first flash of her purple bra. If they took a leap of faith and gave her the benefit of the doubt DESPITE her choice of attire, the second she opened her mouth they would have wondered where she got such a realistic counterfeit high school diploma from and said, “Thanks, but no thanks!”
The moral of the story:
Learn proper grammar.
Figure out what professional attire means.
Realize that no matter how cute your bra is, no one wants to see it.
Don’t talk about my cottage cheese.
And realize that NO ONE should ever eat pork rinds. 

Until next time… 
Have you ever encountered someone that makes you question America’s educational system? Share your story with the class. 

Crazy shoe stalker

It’s story time ladies and gents… 
Today’s story is all about stupid people, or should I say, a stupid person!
Are you ready?

A few Saturdays ago my super sweet hubby gave me a tip that Old Navy was having a flip flop sale for all card holders. Shoppers with Old Navy, Gap or Banana Republic credit cards could purchase flip flops for only $1.

I had JUST been complaining to him about how I needed new flip flops after realizing that I could feel every rock beneath my feet during our annual to the GA Renaissance Festival {post coming soon} so I was thrilled and ready to snag me up a basket-full of floppers. {Let it be known that I have never called flip flops “floppers” before in my life. You are now officially witnesses to a first.}
So I headed on over to get my flip flop shop on.
When I arrived I noticed there weren’t any signs advertising the sale so I quietly {apparently not quietly enough} asked one of the sales associates if the sale was, in fact, today. She confirmed that it was, for card holders only, and I continued on my path to flip flop heaven. 
As I stood in AWE of the EPIC WALL OF FLOPS, I noticed that someone was standing next to me. Thinking nothing of it, because surely someone else knew about the sale, I continued pondering my purchase. Then, all of a sudden, the stranger beside me made herself known.
Stranger: Um, excuse me?
Me: {looks at stranger unsure if she’s talking to me and looks back at wall}
Stranger: Excuse me?
Me: {realizing that she IS talking to me looks back}
Stranger: Did I hear you say that flip flops are only $1 today?
Me: {realizing that she obviously heard me at the register but still thinking I’m just being a helpful fellow shopper} Yes, if you’re a card holder. Next Saturday is for non card holders.
Stranger: What kind of card?
Me: {oh eff…} It’s a store credit card but you can have one from Banana Republic and Gap and it works the same.
Stranger: Oh ok. Um, if I gave you money would you buy me some? I don’t have a card.

SAY WHAT? I would NEVER be bold enough to ask a total stranger to buy something for me. Especially if the thing that was keeping me from a great discount was something I could easily get my hands on. 
Now… I know that my reaction might seem a little harsh, but let’s be honest here:

  • You’re asking a total stranger to purchase something for you.
  • You wouldn’t have known about the offer if you hadn’t been dropping eaves {name that movie} on my conversation with the sales associate. 
  • You can easily walk up to the register and GET YOUR OWN CARD
I forgot to mention that the perfect stranger, we’ll call her the Crazy Shoe Stalker, was standing uncomfortably close to me. So close that I felt somewhat cornered. 
I was so caught off guard by her request and her narrowing distance to my face/death stare that I said, “Um, sure I guess.” 
The next part of our awkward conversation went a little something like this:

Crazy Shoe Stalker: So how many are you going to get?
Me: I don’t know, maybe two or three
Crazy Shoe Stalker: Okay, well I’m going to get three, is that alright?
Me: As long as you can pay me, I guess so. {seems to have been my key phrase throughout this whole experience}
Crazy Shoe Stalker: Ok, cool.

So after I quickly choose my shoes {black, grey and brown}, Crazy Shoe Stalker takes her sweet time picking out the brightest, most colorful shoes on the wall. There are TONS to choose from so within about 2 minutes I found myself standing back watching her make her bad decisions. {I’m not hating on colorful flip flops, but the fact that she was already on my hit list makes just about every decision she makes a bad one}
After about 5 minutes she finally realizes that I’m done… and burning a hole in the back of her head… and she asks, “Oh, um, are you done already?”

Evil glare.
Me: “Yeah, I’m done.”


So, Crazy Shoe Stalker collects her three pair of shoes and follows me to the register where she continues to ask me questions about this MYSTERIOUS Old Navy credit card {as if it’s something she truly had never thought to imagine} and the mesmerizing flip flop sale to which she was so skillfully taking advantage of. It was at this point that I made another attempt to get out of having to buy this chick shoes. Amidst her ridiculously obvious questions I turned and reminded her, “You KNOW, next Saturday the sale is available for NON CARD HOLDERS. Just walk through the doors and you’re eligible for the sale.”
HOPING that even the dimmest of light bulbs might flash above her noggin, I awaited what was sure to be a painful response. 
Crazy Shoe Stalker: Yeah, but the lines are going to be so long, so I’ll just use your card instead. 
Oh yeah… painful. 
At this point I realize that I’ve already committed to this far-too-friendly gesture and should just suck it up and stop trying to get out of it. So I continued off to the register and my clingy companion followed along behind me rummaging through her purse trying to see if she had $3 to seal the deal. 
When we get up to the register we place our flops on the counter and I get my Banana Republic card out of my wallet as the sales associate begins to scan. BUT, before she grabs the first pair, she stops and informs us that there is a limit to how many you can purchase. Only 5 per store. 
Meaning you could buy 5 pair at store A but would have to drive over to store B for any additional pairs within the $1 sale. Sweet. 
If you’re keeping count we had a total of 6. Looks like Crazy Shoe Stalker has a tough decision to make but, as if I shouldn’t have seen it coming, when I look over at her to see which pair she’s going to put back I realize that she’s looking at me to make the same decision. 

She really thought that I was going to put a pair back while I’m the one that’s getting her the sale in the first place. 
So after a quick stare down and a very INTENTIONAL raise of the eyebrows from yours truly, she picks a pair and slides them to the side. I think they were neon orange. Or maybe electric blue. I can’t remember.
So, the transaction continues and we ask the sales woman to put them in two separate bags. I hand her my card and {of course} the computer has a hard time scanning it. She said it’s a normal problem with BR cards so she grabs the super old fashioned credit card swiper to finish the job. It’s then that I realize that my slippery friend has not only taken her bag but has moved to the other side of the register, between me and the door. It’s CLEAR that the transaction is NOT complete because the sales woman is still trying to get my card to swipe but does that stop Crazy Shoe Stalker from being her abrupt and boneheaded self? Nay.
Crazy Shoe Stalker: Um, can I go now? Am I done?
SERIOUSLY? She still has my card in her hand and you are trying to peace out with store merchandise. How many flights of stairs did your mother drop you down when you were a child?
The woman behind the counter gave her the same look that I’m sure my face was making and said, “Um, no, I haven’t finished the transaction so you can’t just leave”.
You go girl.
Annoyed and clearly frustrated that her plan for world domination is coming to a slow Crazy Shoe Stalker huffs and pops her hip to the side in protest while I pray to God and the Saint of shopping that the transaction be finished as fast as possible so I can be rid of my stalker. 

Thankfully everything gets done, Crazy Shoe Stalker hands me $2.25 {for tax} and heads out the door. Thank the sweet Lord. 
NEXT, I hear the sales associate behind me, the same one who originally confirmed that the sale was running, say, “So she suckered you in, huh?”
A little surprised and slightly worried that I was going to get busted by the Old Navy Police, I looked over and realized that she was just as dumbfounded as I was so I simply smiled and nodded. The other girls that were working didn’t understand until I said, “I’ve never met that girl before.” The shock continued. Not just because they realized that she had asked a perfect stranger for this favor but that she was so pushy in her attempts to get her flops and get out. 
At the end of the day, I had my 3 pair of shoes, a few bucks {which I probably spent on a Frosty or small fries} and a few extra jewels in my crown in Heaven. I suppose if I were to really get credit for being a good samaritan I would have been more welcoming of Crazy Shoe Stalker and her bold {and yet simple} request for some shoe assistance. BUT, perhaps it was a slightly less samaritan-like mood that day that turned this whole situation into something truly heinous in my mind. 
Until Next Time…
What do you think? Was I totally overreacting? Would you have agreed to the exchange? Let me know! Just don’t hate on me too much if you think I’m being a total prissssss.

OMG! Like, is that like, hot?

Oh friends, do I have a tale to share with you!
Z and I encountered a group of morons last Friday night that made me feel like I was back in high school. Only not really because my friends in high school didn’t talk like these buffoons. And if they did they probably wouldn’t have been my friends for that long. {That sounds really harsh but it will all make sense soon}
Z and I were out at Kampai hibachi and sushi celebrating my new job! {woot woot!} I’m sure you’ve all been to a restaurant like this, it’s the kind where they cook your food in front of you.

I’ve always loved these places because they make me feel like a kid on an elementary school field trip. I’m still amazed at the huge bursts of fire, egg tossing and knife spinning. Plus the food is fantastic and the white seafood sauce {aka YUM YUM sauce} is to die for. Seriously, when I’m old and heading toward the light, just hook that stuff up to my IV and let me go in creamy delicious peace. MMMM Yum Yum. 🙂

Anyway, when we arrived at the restaurant {by motorcycle of course… so B.A.} all the tables were full and most were already cooking up a storm so we were seated at an empty table and the waitress took our drink order. We were soon joined by a woman and her squirmy little boy, about 2 years old. As she walked in and got him situated in a high chair she informed us that it was “close to his bed time”. She probably wanted to warn us just in case he started screaming and decided to throw his pacifier into the fried rice. The kid was fine and barely made a peep but it was our next set of guests that had Z, myself and mama bear cringing every time they opened their mouths. 
As we sat in peace, watching the royal wedding recap {I was watching, Z was entertaining the squirmy baby with funny faces and strange noises} our moment of tranquility was suddenly breached by valley girl chit chat, annoying giggles and too-cool-for-school bad-ass bro rebuttal. Apparently Dumb, Dumber and Drunk McGee were the final three to complete our table for the evening. The two girls had platinum blonde hair and eyeliner so thick they made Jack Sparrow look like make-up perfection:
They both had on SKIN TIGHT dresses and sky high heels. Their bumbling idiot of a companion looked, smelled and sounded like he’d already taken a swim in a keg of Natty Light and tried to cover it up with some cheap calogne. It was then that we knew that it was going to be an interesting night. 
When the waitress {who was a tiny mouse of a lady} came to take their drink orders the girls blurted out their diet soda requests {why was I not surprised?} and Drunk McGee ordered a Sake Bomb. {so much for my quiet evening of celebration with the hubs} I had never heard of a Sake Bomb but knew it had to be bad news. For those of you who are as in the dark as I was, a Sake Bomb is basically a Jager bomb with warm Sake. 

The waitress set the first one up for him, placing a napkin on the table in case of spillage. I’m not sure if the napkin is a normal practice or if she just had an inkling that Drunk McGee would find a way to make a mess. Either way, we watched in slight horror as the sure-to-be-catastrophe continued. McGee asked the super sweet waitress how to count to three in Japanese to make things REALLY official, and she informed him it was ichi-ni-san {itchy, knee, sahn}. Great, now the drunk smelly boy is speaking poor Japanese.
Now before I go on, there’s one more detail you should know. There is one other difference between a Jager bomb and a Sake bomb. As you see in the picture, the Sake is suspended above the glass of beer by two chopsticks. With Jager bombs you drop the shot into the glass but Sake bombs require a little more SHOW. In order to get the Sake to drop in the glass, one must BANG ON THE TABLE until the vibration makes the Sake drop. {hurray}
So. Drunk McGee YELLS for the entire restaurant to hear, “ICHY, NI, SAN” and proceeds to crash his behemoth-like fist repeatedly on the table until the chopsticks part ways and the shot drops making a fizzy mess. The blonde bimbos giggled and clapped then cheered him on as he chugged the bubbling concoction {and by chugged I mean managed to only get 1/2 in his mouth while the rest flowed down the sides of his face… keeping it classy, of course}.
Once the excitement died down we put in our dinner order while the rest of the table continued to search the menu. Dumb and Dumber felt the need to talk the rest of us through their decision making processes as they figured out what and how much they wanted to eat. 

  • “OMG, do they have sushi here? We should totally do sushi. Where’s the waitress, I want sushi” -Dumb
  • “I’m getting the steak, I think. Or should I get chicken. I, like, can never decide. Maybe I’ll just get both, I can totally eat both.” -Dumber
  • “Doesn’t the salad come with that, like, REALLY good pink dressing stuff. I think it’s ginger or something. Is it ginger? That shit’s my favorite, what is it?” {yes, all three of them were cursing like sailors in ear shot of the little boy at the other end of the table. His mother’s eyes got bigger and bigger with each f-bomb. I’m surprised she didn’t say anything.} -Dumber
  • “Yo, how much food you gettin anyways? NO way you can eat all that shit.” – Drunk. McGee
  • “Oh my god, that grill is like, really really hot. I almost touched it you guys. HAHA. What if I had touched it?” – Dumber
  • “Yo, check it, it’s Sake bomb time!” – Drunk McGee

Now normally when I go to these places I walk in knowing good and well that I will NOT be able to finish my meal, because it’s NEVER HAPPENED. But I’m always excited that I’ll have left overs for the next day’s lunch! People, these girls BOTH ordered full plates of sushi with 10 rolls each and a full hibachi meal including a starter soup and salad {the ones with that good pink dressing stuff}. 
After they ordered things moved pretty fast. When the chef entered the room with his cart of goodies and tricks I was excited and ready to block out the idiocy beside me. That lasted about 2 seconds before dumber yelled out, “Please don’t give me any of that white sauce. That stuff is nasty. I only like the brown sauce, thaaaaaanks.” If I were not in such a good mood from learning of my new job I may have flown across the table to grab her and attempt to shake out the stupid. {It would have taken a LOT of shaking} The chef looked at her like the rude idiot she was, smiled, nodded and proceeded with this personalized cooking show. He was really fun and kept trying to get us to interact with him but dumb and dumber had moved on to a more important topic:

Dumber: “OMG that Asian girl wrote on your facebook wall? {yes, she said ASIAN GIRL}
Dumb: No, way, did she really? 
Dumber: Um, YEAH, Do you even know her? 
Dumb: No, ew. Why is she writing on my wall?
Dumber: What the hell, like, why did you accept her friend request?
Dumb: Oh my god, I don’t even know. Maybe I was drunk. HAHAHAHA!
Dumber: Oh my god I was so hungover this morning. Last night was, like, totally nuts.

This conversation carried on for the next 5 minutes until the chef started chucking pieces of egg into people’s mouths. He did a great job at making it look like it was part of the act but I think he was secretly trying to get them to shut up. Kudos chef man!

Once Drunk McGee had his turn at catching egg in his mouth he asked the chef if he could squirt Sake into his mouth next. Let me add that he was probably 3 Sake bombs deep at this point. At first I really thought the chef was going to do it but instead he used one of the many gag squirt bottles to fake Drunkface out. I found great pleasure in his humiliation. 
Next up, Dumber BLURTS out at the chef, “OMG, like, where is our sushi? Shouldn’t it be done by now? Isn’t it supposed to come before the meal?”. I swear chef man could have burned a hole in her head with the look he gave her but he shook it off, smiled and said that the sushi bar was really swamped and it should be out soon. 
 The rest of the night was as idiotic as the start, with more Sake bombs {yes, even more}, stupid comments and pictures being taken. Then Dumber saw someone she knew from across the room and proceeded to yell his name out to get his attention. He seemed to have the same number of brain cells that they did. 
Did I mention it was Dumb’s birthday? Yeah, she got a {FREE} giant piece of fried ice cream cake with a candle on top, which Dumber immediately commented on with, “Um, what the hell is that?” but not before the announced that the waitress ruined the surprise by telling them they were bringing out something special for the birthday girl. {She will do great things in life} 
The moral of this story is, avoid dropping your babies on their heads in the first few years of their life, avoid eating mushrooms unless they are in the produce section of a grocery store and when that little voice in your head tells to to take a big wif of that Sharpie marker, tell it to shove off. 

Until next time…
Have you ever had to share a dinner table with the world’s worst dinner guests?