I finished putting together Danny's Advent calendar this morning, and the conversation turned to gingerbread houses.
Me: I want to bake a gingerbread house, but I can't think of anything unusual to do with it. I want mine to be different.
Mr. Eat The Blog: Why don't bake a gingerbread uterus? That's everybody's first home...well, except for the test tube babies. I wonder if you could do a gingerbread test tube?
For better or worse.
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I miss living near you'ns. I so *get* you guys. And you're raising an equally brilliant young'n.
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Dear Miss Eat The Blog:
I ate Thanksgiving leftovers like a PIG yesterday. Today I'm afraid of the bathroom scale. What should I do?
- Uncle Flabby
Maybe a gingerbread horse? (Hm.. if I had a horse, I'd name it "Gingerbread.")
Dear Uncle Flabby,
Try moving the scale around to various points on the floor in an uneven room. When you find a weight you like, go with that one.
I weigh 120 in the corner of the kitchen nearest the mudroom. That's my favourite corner.
Oh God, you have no idea how much I miss having someone that "gets" me.
Example:
Following the conversation about the gingerbread uterus, I said to L.
"Hey, you know what someone should do? Someone should make a Dead Ringers board game, you know with playing pieces made out of the "implements."
We both laughed and then agreed that you would be the only other person we know that would laugh.
L. Thinks I could make a million dollars with that game concept.
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