Poor Brenda

 

Adding to the recent avalanche of suck, our car started randomly overheating last week.  So it was with one last longing look at our for-once-not-meager account that I sent Husband and car off to the shop.

 

Only to be rewarded with an outrageous repair bill.

 

As in:

HIM:  Did you get my email? With the estimate?
ME:  No, let me… Oh holy fucksticks.  No.  Just… no.
HIM:  Yeah.
ME:  No, No!  We don’t have that—and if we did, we certainly wouldn’t spend it on this car!
HIM:  So… car shopping?
ME:  Ugh.
HIM:  I’ll come home and—
ME:  Wait—do I have to go?
HIM:  Um… yeah?
ME:  (internal litany of fucks)

Chanel Oberlin has a tantrum

Don’t.  Wanna!

 

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Cinderella Problems

 

The weather is finally turning, and fall will soon be upon us.  Leaves will turn, sweaters will be sold, I will make cocoa by the batch—seriously, I’ve got an amazing recipe which is 100% responsible for the current size of my jeans.

 

hot chocolate with mini marshmallows

Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re using mini marshmallows, you’re doing it wrong.

 

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