(no subject)
This is Fitzy asking me ever so eloquently if I wouldn't mind kissing his posterior.
Otherwise known at Casa Steel as a Tuesday.
You can't see the pic on this folder but it is Twisty G asking, if I wouldn't mind too much, could I please grow both a boy and girl baby in my belly now?
Would that I could baby.
Michaels funeral is Saturday at 10 am. This is difficult to type with both Steel progeny climbing my head and hanging off my various parts and sundry while I try to make this iPhone obey.
Is there anything better in life than fresh baked crusty bread swimming in melted butter ?
I keep trying to do this thing where it's nothing but nice, healthy water to drink during the week so you can drink your face off on the weekend.
Then your friend with young kids dies and suddenly vodka at any hour of the day becomes as necessary as air.
I keep trying to live life on the straight and narrow but then I lost the baby. And George died. And Kay had her breakdown. And then Michael died.
The powers that be are clearly not embracing sobriety for me right now.
And that's okay.
Because I'm still here. And so is Fratboy and the small people and my mom and Kay, despite herself.
I just wish I could make better sense of it all.
Until then there are asses waiting for their kisses.
And lively fresh bread.
And vodka.
It ain't 30 hundred million dollars.
But it will do.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.