238 Sun on one pair of cheeks is fine. Sun on the other is not.
239 Big mistake, ladies. I pulled the fowl off our family plan. Don’t think the same fate can’t befall you bovines.
240 Carefully, of course.
241 In the whole jeans, hair, heels, and jewelry thing I mentioned earlier.
242 You’re right if you’re thinking it’s time I buy new towels. And maybe even replace my sea-grass rug.
243 And spend eternity in an orange jumpsuit.
244 Not to mention Pete’s stink. I guess I should have let him out when I went out, but hell, I didn’t even realize I’d gone out.
245 Clearly a trip to Target is in order.
246 And it’s a darn good thing, too.
247 Best offer gets a billy goat, or two!
248 I would have hyphenated my name, but they don’t make business cards the size of billboards.
249 Coffee light and sweet and a buttered bagel; is it any wonder I had hips as broad as the bus lane?
250 After he’s finished, that is. “There’ll be no Budweiser till that sink sparkles, big guy!” (And if you believe that, I have a barn you might like to buy. Really. Best offer gets the grain silo, too.)
251 Because, as you can probably guess, postpartum depression + generalized anxiety + clinical depression = buy stock in Kimberly-Clark/Kleenex, stat!
252 Can somebody tell me why banks are reproducing like bunnies? Even here, in my sweet one-stoplight town, we have a BB&T and a PNC within fifty feet of each other. Why? What we need is a good coffee shop, or a movie theater, or a mental health center that will certainly do a brisk business if one of the aforementioned financial institutions isn’t replaced by a Starbucks soon.
253 Via a commute that was anything but beautiful. An hour and fifteen minutes each way. On a good day. During the holidays, Route 17 in Paramus is nothing short of a parking lot. Commuters are lucky if they get home with enough time to change clothes, finish their letter to Santa, and put their butt back on the bus.
254 Former beauty guru at Glamour magazine and author of How Not to Look Old and How to Never Look Fat Again.
255 Ah, country air; there’s nothing quite like it for fucking with your head.
256 To be honest, I think SpongeBob is sweet. It’s those two malcontents, Plankton and Squidward, I could do without. I’ve actually written to the show’s creators asking if once, just once, Sandy could give ’em a nip. After all, she’s a rodent. Let’s find out if she’s rabid.
257 Clearly, the apple doesn’t fall far from the TV. I mean tree.
258 Frankly, you could hide a toddler riding a Big Wheel behind that thing.
259 Don’t worry; I wear a hat.
260 Clearly we will not be pushing military careers in the McCorkindale house. You’re welcome.
261 Back in college, my friends and I spent a lot of time at a bar called The Beach. No sun, sand, or surf. Just the world’s best Bloody Marys. And I haven’t had four on an empty stomach since.
262 And probably looking a whole lot like a hostage in my terry-cloth hood.
263 Due to reality rearing its ugly head, there’ve been some significant delays in the development of Dr. Suzy’s Fantasy Pharmaceuticals’ Protein Removal Pill. She has, however, managed to grow a packet of Sea-Monkeys and is happy to report that they do indeed like her hair. Or at least what’s left of it.
500 Acres and No Place to Hide Page 26
