My husband got me a stand for my banjo.
Trouble is, I sold my banjo to get him this:
I thought he’d like it, but instead he broke down crying. Then he confessed that he sold his ass to get me the banjo stand.
Upon realizing the irony, we both laughed. Then I got him the ointment out of the medicine cabinet. He went to bed early, and as long as he sleeps on his stomach he should be okay.
So… um… yeah. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
“I think I’ve known all along. The first time I saw Arya Stark I felt an immediate kinship with her,” said the childless, multiple-cat-owning, middle-aged Executive Assistant. “But still, I’m glad Buzzfeed could confirm it.” She then got into her four-door Honda Civic sedan and left the office 10 minutes early to beat the traffic back to her exurban subdivision. “Don’t tell my boss,” she pleaded.
My homage to The Onion. Yes, I’ve decided that “homage” is French for “ripoff.”
Watching The Year Without A Santa Claus. Everyone’s so wrapped up in Heat Miser and Snow Miser, nobody mentions how the elves found themselves on a one-way street, getting ticketed for riding a Vixen the wrong way.