My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Mmm… orange milkshakes with real oranges. Yes, REAL oranges, which is a similar treat to real swiss chocolate under the current cold orange growing (destroying) conditions. The Husband is awesome for teaching me how to make these things.
I also haven’t shived anyone in the past 24 hours either. There’s always a friend that suggests shiv’ing – the idea of walking up to someone in the grocery store or boardroom and “shiving ’em” is so funny surreal, I’m reminded that it ain’t cell-block bad in Gypsyhick-Town yet.
F: “Shiv her!”
GH: “That’s brilliant.”
F: “Will you make it out of a spoon? I have a dremel.”
GH: (intense laughter) “Uhm, well, maybe not. Shivving is probably not going to really resolve anything”
F: “It’ll be fu-un”
GH: “Uh… maybe until I become someone’s bitch in jail. I don’t think I’m gonna shiv her.”
F: “Party pooper”
I’d share my milkshake with you if you were here. It’s *really* good. It’s actually working out to be a really great day.