so i can show you some pics
all of these pics are from my iphone, so dont hate. this is from my moms basement. these are my childhood games
fisher price representing
this cub scout shirt is so small i dont even think
the girls i date could fit into it.
my mom has my old baseball bats down in her basement to protect her wrapping paper.
dont laugh, hardly any of her wrapping paper has been stolen since 9/12/01
no way wouldnt i live in this basement if i still lived in IL
seriously what girl wouldnt wanna make out with me on this sweet couch
check out the easter bunny tracks. you’re early f’er!
my favorite book in grade school
my mom loves mangers. this was ours growing up. hey wait who are those new peeps?
there goes the neighborhood!
as shes gotten older the mangers have taken a more, uh, soulful turn
ok thats it for tonight, happy christmas saturday!
but it’s being worked on as we speak. So here I am blogging from the phone thus lack of photos.
My mom asked me yesterday if I thought I’d ever get married as she flipped thru People which announced one break up after another. Later she told me about the guy in a Santa outfit who shot up his family and inlaws and then burned down the house before blowing his head off.
Yes mom, eternal matrimony is clearly the answer. I think I will take my chances dating girls who adore the busblog.
If I were to get married I’d want someone who either had an endless supply of computers or the ability to repair them in minutes. Can’t say I enjoy this downtime.
Even though she should be focusing on retiring my mom still flips thru the employment listings trying to figure out what jobs out there would be high paying but low stress. And something my mom would be qualified for. Because she has such an amazing green thumb I asked her “if Obama legalized weed, would you turn your basement into Grandma Jo’s Sticky Icky Farms?” She said no. I said what if you only sold to medical facilities? For Aids peeps? She said, new topic please. Who knew my mom had no compassion for the afflicted? Fascinating.