Married with Douchebag
I discovered Grand Marnier last night. Or five of them, if memory serves. And memory doesn’t serve. It’s more like a buffet line.
I’d never really done the “sweetened” drink stuff before. Now I know why. It’s like a hangover mixed with a sugar rush. My liver just hired Re/max to help with the move. Stupid liver, you ain’t going nowhere. Suck it up like a proper organ and deal with it.
Speaking of sucking it up like a proper organ, someone’s digestive tract has been unusually active over the past, say, ten years. I don’t know if Hank’s really a ‘bag per se, but he’s big and funny looking, and for a Sunday that’ll have to do. Not to mention his lime is stuck in his bottle’s neck. That’s gotta earn at least a few points on the douche scale.
And she’s got a sweet Christina Applegate thing going. So to Kelly Bundy Cutie, I toast my morning bowl of the ‘Charms and say challo to her big, big friend.
