There is no "recipe" (because they are just some goddamn pumpkin seeds). There are a lot of swear words. Consider yourselves warned
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I just felt the world needed to see these.
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We ate dinner, and drank a lot of wine, and then got on the bus to go back to the resort, at which point Brandon and I got into a very heated argument about Jim Harbaugh.
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Below is a post about my new year's resolutions, or lack thereof, which I finished writing and then didn't post because most of it is about books so I thought I needed to go take some artful photos of the stacks of books all around my house. And then I didn't do that, because I have a job and a life and, it turns out, not a lot of motivation to take artful photos of the stacks of books around my house.
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I am excited for football, but I am also scared — for my liver, for my sanity, for my marriage. This is the other burden of being a graduate of the University of Michigan, or at least one who's been paying attention to the football program for the past decade or so.
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I stopped at the store to get a soda and somehow offended the mother of all wasps. That thing hung off my cheek by its stinger, flailing around for a good 10 seconds before dislodging itself and flying away. This is probably the wasp version of giving someone the finger. I AM TRAUMATIZED.
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My iPod also died over the weekend, so basically I just have felt it was in my best interest not to blog or spend any unnecessary time on the internet. When the electronics start turning against you, you really just want to stay offline and read things on paper.
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Last night I dropped my brand-new iPhone in the toilet.
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A hodge-podge of ridiculousness, if we’re being honest.
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