Happy FYBF Inter-Webbers,
Welcome to the Purple House. I’ll be honest with you. Today, I was going to do a seriously funny-like post about how I am really a teenage guy stuck in a hot 28 year old SAHM’s body. Featuring my mate Cliff. That’s him there, in the long white robes.
That’s him, second from the left. He just looks so much like the priest that baptised the Chop, I get the them confused.
I was going to do that post. But it seems that the new ad for Mother energy drink (you know the one? With the jet powered dodgem cars and the roller coaster of fire?) is the only piece of footage in the civilised world that has not been uploaded to YouTube, and the post is pretty pointless without it. As is this one, really.
So, instead, I’m doing this post here. Sorry. Please direct all hate mail to You Tube. And Coca Cola. For begin stupid enough to not make their ad campaign viral.
Why We Should Not Send The Man Grocery Shopping.
Reason One- 108 Matchbox cars. I kid you not. It was 99, before yesterday afternoon. The Man needs rehab on Hot Wheels.
Reason Two- Eight tubs of dip for 30 guests at the Chop’s last birthday. He ignores the sanctity of The List. And seems to think he knows better than The List that I have spent hours lovingly crafting.
Reason Three- Wheat free, gluten free, yeast free cake mix. Somebody must have called the Fun Police.
And, Forrest-style, that’s all I’m-a gonna say about that.