Tales of Wit and Charm…

It was a rough night last night. It started when I couldn’t drive up my brother’s semi-steep driveway due to massive amounts of snow, immediately followed with forgetting the garage code.

When we finally got into the house the alarm went off. I couldn’t get it to stop and Carter immediately started to cry. Followed by Hannah yelling because Carter wouldn’t stop crying. Ten very loud minutes later I convinced the alarm company I wasn’t there to harm the children, because if so, I would have DONE IT ALREADY!

I knew there was only one thing that would cheer the little buggers up: “Baby Got Back.”

And it so, so did: The fact the kids now know the word horny guarantees I’ll never be asked to stay overnight with the kids again. It was totally worth it.

Of course I told him, “Hell no! Get a job and buy your own.”

“Aunt Sarah, Baby Jesus is incredible.”

“What makes his so incredible?”

“Because he lives in outerspace and flies here to grow up.”

“Hannah I’m not good on this whole religion thing, but that sounds a lot more like Superman to me.”

“Who?”

The Yuppie strikes again–click here to read this week’s “The Dating Years.”

I found my Victoria’s Secret swimsuit catalog on the ground in the snow, rather than in my locked mailbox. I suspect my postal carrier is just as disgusted about delivering this particular seasonal catalog in a snowstorm, as I am about receiving it. I think it’s safe to assume my postal carrier is a woman.

Dear Chadybear,

Thanks for your guilt-ridden letter. Is Mom there with you? I thought writing a lot of letters was a good thing. Little did I know you actually want them in a timely manner. For the record I’m not trying to save stamp money, I’m just lazy about going to the post office. I’ll be better. Maybe.

The new job is great. One of the guys (read: kid) I work with reminds me of you. Because of that I give him as much shit as often as possible. I’m pretty sure he hates it just like you always did, which only encourages me. He’ll get used to it eventually.

I read the part of your letter to Ben where you said you were sad you didn’t spend more time with us because and that we shouldn’t grow up before you get home. Ummm, we agreed and you have nothing to worry about. I’m glad you’re finally accepting our weird humor. Was it the Jesus Band-Aids that paved the way?

I’m sorry you got stuck on the same mission with that Plumb kid from home. He seems like an uptight little prick so it makes sense the holy toast kit we sent you offended him. Tell him to get over it. I know he sucks but try and get along with him. Oh my god, that was way too tender sister for me. How about this advice: just don’t punch him.

So your prophet died. It’s only been a day and I’m already tired of hearing people say it’s sad. It’s really, really not. He was 97. It’s taken over the news completely, as you might imagine. Totally annoying!

Oh and Chady… when you ask for contraband items you need to specify, otherwise you’re going to get porn and fireworks.

Love,
Sissy