Taking the Cake, Hazelnut Dance Mix

Miss Sasha calls almost daily with explosive wedding-related revelations. Did I know so-and-so said such-and-such and swore blah-blah-blah? There are only so many times I can hear soothing words fall from my own lips – “Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re just fucking jealous of your classic beauty. I know how it can be…” – before I start chortling like Butthead and smashing my forehead on the coffee table. It’s so difficult to be a caring Mommy!

Mamie and I decided to join the New Jersey Bloggers Ring, since we’re blogging and can’t make a break for the state line – something in the plea agreement, it’s all a blur now…You’ll find a tab in the righthand column connecting Poor Impulse Control to the rest of the dancers shouting, “It’s electric!” So welcome, people who found us by accident! I hate to embarrass anyone, but even Miss Manners frowns gently when guests show up emptyhanded.

Next time, bring me a shiny object. I demand it.

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