From the furnace that I call
helliciously hot home I am writing the musings of what I did not do this week. By not, I mean I really did, but I "didn't." Get it? Gotta thank crafty MckMama (who made it into a Beantown newspaper yesterday) for thinking these things up.
I didn't breathe a sigh of relief when my mom informed me that I had internet added on to my phone plan. I totally had not been relapsing to my old ways and was not using the internet that costs an arm and a leg without the unlimited data package. No, not I.
I did not giggle when the creep in CIS had to switch seats. Why you ask? The lady who sits on the other side of him put her purse in his seat and ignored him when he looked at the seat, then at her. I did not say "praise the Lord" when he moved to another computer. That's a mean thing to do, so I would not do that. I can hear Gomer Pyle now saying, "what a mean thing, what a mean thing to do." Hillbilly accent and all.
I did not want to go into fits of laughter yesterday morning in Sunday School when M's buddy Samuel answered a very... complex question I asked the class. We were learning about Lazarus, but I opened the lesson talking about friends and what they mean to us. I asked what they would do if their friend's relative died. Samuel (he's so sweet) raised his hand and I called on him. He said he would just get a new friend. At first, I did not think "yes, you are a man" then want to laugh at his answer. So I did not say, "ok..." Then it was not pointed out to me by the other teacher that he thought I meant if his friend died what would he do. It did not then become ten times clearer for me and the kids thought it was hysterical when I said "OH!" They told me I was silly. Which, they were
While getting a tan and doing my math homework courtesy of my local Starbucks' patio yesterday afternoon, I did not take joy in seeing 2 cars get pulled over in the span of 20 minutes. No, not I. It did not entertain me.
Finally, I am not cursing Ricky Bobby in my head for not showing up to fix the A/C so we aren't living in a furnace anymore. His name really isn't Ricky Bobby, but he has the nastiest mullet and is a stereotypical country bumpkin for you, so somehow, we started calling him Ricky Bobby. Will Ferrel looks hotter than him. I hope that tells y'all something. Sometimes I miss the North. Mullets are foreign concepts up there.
I'm still not thinking about moving in with these guys. Even my brother told mom the same thing at a separate time the other day.
Yes, those are my new, soon-to-be neighbors. Kidding. Anyway, hope y'all have a great week. Keep Stellan in your thoughts, he could get the thumbs up to go back to the Thawed Out Tundra today :)