I know. I know. I KNOW!

Look how pretty…

My brain is still there… Just give me till Monday. I’ll be de-rummed by then, I swear it. Make some damn zucchini bread. Seriously. It’s good. And if you’re like me and came home to a 10 pound, 27-inch long zucchini (that sounds very dirty… and it was! It had actual dirt on it!) then you’ll need something to do with that shit. I’ll be making pickles because cucumbers are trying to take over my house. I swear it. One entire side of my sink is full of cucumbers. Anyone have any good pickle recipes?

Fuck, I’m pathetic. Maybe I’ll start a band. Band names anyone? Dirty Zucchini? Fornicating Dragonflies? There was something about kittens yesterday that I was yelling at Patrick but I’ve already forgotten it. Dastardly Kittens? I don’t remember.

That drink was called a Sugar Reef and it was dark rum, pineapple juice, orange juice and grenadine and I want it in my mouth hole right now. The Sugar Reef and I were BFFs by about Wednesday. Then there was something purple that tasted like grape kool-aid and I loved it very much but then randomly I would have one with a shot of Jagarmeister in it and all hell would break loose. It was like playing alcoholic roulette. Usually I won but sometimes I lost and hot damn it was ugly. I kid. I held my shit together. Go me.

Tell me a story.