What is it?
Answer- they USED to be French fries, but NOW they’re charcoal sticks.
They actually WRITE.
Of course I tried it. It’s the first thing I did. (I drew a smiley face)
The REAL question here is… am I proud or horrified?
My 19 y/o was making french fries last night, they caught fire and he extinguished it. The End.
I woke up to powdery fire-putter-outter-stuff all over the counter.
Cleaned it up, made coffee and haven’t missed a beat.
I file this under… Everyday shit.
By EVERY day, I mean it wasn’t our first fire.
Also, my kids are pretty damned cool under pressure.
I like that.
Two shiny chocolate mini-donuts that taste like a dirty kitchen sponge dipped in wax.
No, I’ve never actually eaten a dirty kitchen sponge, but I’m certain it would taste exactly like this imposter baked good.
Notice, I didn’t include WAX in the above statement because duh… wax lips and those little bottles with colored sugar in them. Yum.
Even if you close your eyes real tight and wish real hard, still not even a hint of chocolate or anything resembling food, and let it be known that I have an EXCELLENT imagination.
I also love run-on sentences. I call them run-away sentences.
I’m packed like a sardine that’s actually a gymnastics meet, tired, starving, wearing scrubs and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost it.
You can file this nonsensical blog entry with…
Stupid shit Extreme Mom says.