ooh la la

You guys!

I asked, and I received!

Ok fine. I wanted, so I bought. A scanner. Told you.

HOOO boy am I going to have some fun with that. It's going to be a lovely weekend indeed.

(Also because tonight will involve Mexican food, margaritas, and a little bar I haven't seen the inside of for months. Yip to the EEEE! Happy Birthdays Kim and Jacky! Love you to pieces.)

Lordy, I'm all over the place this morning. I even got to work 15 minutes early because we're doing some house-sitting for Micah's sister in Florissant and I had no idea how long it would take to get here. But staying at her house was like being in a bed and breakfast because:

1. she has a squeegee in her shower
2. the guest bed had 4,103 pillows
3. little flower shaped things in the kitchen sink to catch food
4. decorational themes
5. a curio cabinet
6. CENTRAL muthafuckin' AIR, SUCKAH! and a squeegee! FUCK YES!

Could've done better on the "breakfast" half of that equation. Last night when we were drifting off to sleep Micah said we should go to the Waffle House for breakfast (he's only 5 minutes from work today so he had a lot more free time in the morning) and I thought "now THAT is a good idea!" because that's exactly the kind of low-key romance I adore. Breakfast just around the corner involving my honey, fluffy waffles, maybe some bacon and a big glass of OJ, before work on a Friday? Heaven. But that's not what happened. We got kind of...distracted... and suddenly we were too late to go out and I threw my breakfast dreams out the door with his sister's psycho cat that hissed at me many, many times. (You do not hiss at animal lovers, whose love is so obvious it beads up like condensation on a glass. BAAAD KITTY. Cats like you are the reason I used to be scared of cats.) I looked in the fridge, discovered Eggos, and quickly determined it was the next best thing. But! The Eggos were probably bought before we invaded Iraq. We coulda played frisbee with them. Or sanded some wood. Disgusted, I pushed the plate away and Micah happily crunched through them. He bats clean-up with my pizza crusts (too fucking crispy!) so I shouldn't be surprised.

So I stopped at McDonald's, which was really the next best thing to the Waffle House. Morning saved!

And damn, getting here even 15 minutes early is really throwing my shit off.

And damn, the blabbering needs to stop RIGHT NOW.

Fuck, can I ask you a question first?
I'd like to know about your ideal breakfast.