Wow. 4 days since my last blog entry. And I haven't been on vacation. Nope. I was busy, and then I pulled my neck and was crippled. Here's how it went:
Mom: (Thursday) Are you ready for this consignment sale, which we've tried to do twice but failed to due bizarre circumstances including walking pneumonia?
Me: Yeah, totally cool.
Me: (Friday) AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! NOT ENOUGH TIME! Sh*t!
Me: (Saturday morning) Plenty of time.
Me: (late to the sale) AAAAAAAAH! (etc.) Also, my neck's a bit stiff.
Me: (picking up baby) SNAP. Oh, was that my neck?
Me: (walking around without moving my head or neck, feeling like Uncle Fester)
Me: Wow, this consignment sale is wickedly lame. There are, like, six people here.
Consumer: I want to buy this bag of toys for $2. Here is my $50 bill. And now, you're going to say, Oh, no, just take it, I don't have change. I am very clever. Ha ha!
Mom: Here's your $48 in change. Have a nice day.
Consumer: I have failed, and now I'm stuck with this bag of toys and 48 ones. Sh*t.
Me and Mom: HA HA HA!
Biscuit: It's time for ballet.
Me: Ballet was great. Now let's go get ChickfilA for grandma. Hi, I'd like a Chik-N-Strips Valu-Meel with fr00t and llemonaade, please. And lots of that crack-like ChickfilA sauce.
Mom: Why did you bring me bizarre little mini Chik-N-Biskits with ChickfilA sauce?
Me: CHICKFILA FAIL. Those guys are jerks. Sh*t.
My neck: I no longer function. You can't carry your kid or help reload the truck with all the sh*t you didn't sell. In fact, your recently-recovered-from-hip-surgery husband is going to have to move all of the sh*t you didn't sell. Oh, and I'd like a Five Guys burger, by the by.
Me: Sorry, Dr. Krog.
Dr. Krog's hip: AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. OUCH. HOBBLE.
Dr. Krog: I will never let you forget this.
Mom: I spent all day trying to sell your sh*t to three people while reading a Michael Crichton book, and I won't even take any of your $66 as a reward, even though you made me eat Chik-N-Biskits. I am a saint. Now get your sh*t out of my attic.
Dad: Maybe when t.rex is 30, he'll come get this sh*t out of the attic.
Dr. Krog: Why do we have all this sh*t?
Me: We need to sell that sh*t so we can buy more sh*t.
Dr. Krog: Like what? What could we possibly need?
Me: Well at the good consignment sale today, I bought next year's clothes for the kids, a sequined headband, our fourth pink leotard, and two VHS cassettes featuring Disney princesses.
Dr. Krog: Sh*t.
My neck: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.