Friday, March 26, 2010


I have developed a disturbing level of hostility lately, a spittin' sparks approach to disappointment that has begun to surprise even me. Granted, I haven't smacked anybody or run my car into anything (purposefully), but I'm not an angry person as a rule, so it's a change of pace that I find myself muttering obscenities under my breath at gape-mouthed, dopey bank tellers or assuming a cringe-worthy decibel level at the splendid folks at Southeast Toyota Finance. (I repeat, splendid.)

Those moments of hapless fury start to wear on a person who wants nothing more than a plate of French fries and stretchy pants and possibly to be someone's pampered spouse. I understand that those first two might preclude the latter.

In other words, I'm in the market for a hero. He has to be strong but sensitive.


Kind to puppies.

spiderman and charlie.

Discombobulated by the out-of-doors.


Dreadfully earnest.


With a flair for creative revenge.

pretzel chuck.

Happy Friday, everyone! Don't worry, you're safe from my ire—I still love you. Just don't ask me for money. I don't have any, and that seems to be where the trouble starts.


at: 10:00 PM said...

The Bosche clan loves you!



my foodgawker gallery



I am a work in progress. I perpetually need a hair cut. I'm totally devoted to my remarkable nieces and nephew. I am an elementary home cook and a magazine worker bee. (Please criticize my syntax and spelling in the comments.) I think my dog is hilarious. I like chicken and spicy things. I have difficulty being a grown-up. Left to my own devices, I will eat enormous amounts of cheese snacks of all kinds.