Headliner, I Challenge You To A Game Of Horseshoes
My Grandpa died a week or so ago, so I went home this weekend for his Memorial Service. Not to worry, I wasn't particularly close with him, so I shant be getting all weepy. I had never been to a Memorial Service before--I'm not sure what I expected, somber people in black I guess, but it was pretty much like any other family gathering. My cousin Alex MCd the whole thing sporting a powder blue seersucker suit with a pink shirt and tie. Hot! The tone was pretty casual, lots of joking about my grandpa's idiosyncrasies. He was the stereotypical gruff old man, constantly stating his old timey opinions in old timey ways, so there was plenty of fodder. Alex ended the proceedings by saying "I know that if Grandpa were here right now, he'd just have one thing to say...YOU DAMN KIDS!"
The Memorial was during the Washington game, so I missed most of that. I Tivo'd the whole thing, but I'd left the Bend at about 6 on Saturday morning and didn't get a chance to turn the game on until around 10 that night. Apparently I no longer have the ability to stay up longer than 16 hours because as soon as I sat down to watch I totally zonked out, six year old style. Typical trip home otherwise. Donatos, the Lube, babies and puppies. Gwen is still super cute, although I fear she's not quite as uber-fat as she was. She's smiling all the time though, and responding joyously to such hilarious things as lifting her arms into the air or making fish faces, so that's a lot of fun.
My poor dogs. They got these things which dogs apparently get called hot spots, which are just kind of like raw areas of skin on their faces. Oscar, who has never had any concept of anything other than the desire to have things in his mouth, dealt with it pretty well, but poor Phoebe didn't know what to do. My mom said she spent the first day sitting in the center of the room, staring dead ahead and not moving a muscle, presumably under the impression that the hot spots would eventually get bored and leave. The second day she spent hiding under a table. Thankfully, on the third day she discovered that she could soothe her face by laying it directly on an air conditioning vent, so she's been hanging out there ever since.
We finally got a noise complaint at Chili's Monday night. Hilarious. After four years of legitimately earning noise complaints but never getting them, we manage to offend some family by laughing too much or dropping a fork or something. Seriously, there were only three of us, and the shiznittery index (as measured in decibels) was at an all-time low. Anyway, we felt bad despite our relative innocence and declared an emergency hundred percent tip night, so hopefully that smoothed things over with the staff.
So what in the hell is Desmond doing in the hatch. It's outrageous. It's outrageously outrageous.
And what's up with Family Guy lately? You're really letting me down, Seth MacFarlane. It still has its moments, but it's lost that special quality that makes me want to soil myself. Get on it, jerk.
The Memorial was during the Washington game, so I missed most of that. I Tivo'd the whole thing, but I'd left the Bend at about 6 on Saturday morning and didn't get a chance to turn the game on until around 10 that night. Apparently I no longer have the ability to stay up longer than 16 hours because as soon as I sat down to watch I totally zonked out, six year old style. Typical trip home otherwise. Donatos, the Lube, babies and puppies. Gwen is still super cute, although I fear she's not quite as uber-fat as she was. She's smiling all the time though, and responding joyously to such hilarious things as lifting her arms into the air or making fish faces, so that's a lot of fun.
My poor dogs. They got these things which dogs apparently get called hot spots, which are just kind of like raw areas of skin on their faces. Oscar, who has never had any concept of anything other than the desire to have things in his mouth, dealt with it pretty well, but poor Phoebe didn't know what to do. My mom said she spent the first day sitting in the center of the room, staring dead ahead and not moving a muscle, presumably under the impression that the hot spots would eventually get bored and leave. The second day she spent hiding under a table. Thankfully, on the third day she discovered that she could soothe her face by laying it directly on an air conditioning vent, so she's been hanging out there ever since.
We finally got a noise complaint at Chili's Monday night. Hilarious. After four years of legitimately earning noise complaints but never getting them, we manage to offend some family by laughing too much or dropping a fork or something. Seriously, there were only three of us, and the shiznittery index (as measured in decibels) was at an all-time low. Anyway, we felt bad despite our relative innocence and declared an emergency hundred percent tip night, so hopefully that smoothed things over with the staff.
So what in the hell is Desmond doing in the hatch. It's outrageous. It's outrageously outrageous.
And what's up with Family Guy lately? You're really letting me down, Seth MacFarlane. It still has its moments, but it's lost that special quality that makes me want to soil myself. Get on it, jerk.
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