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YOUR RESEARCHOMFG I'm going to die.
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Check sport suspensions by racing over the speed bumps
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And we could also check our sport suspensions by racing over the speed bumps on Milbank Ave.
Leading evidence: 'Check sport suspensions by racing over the speed bumps' (no explicit attributable resolution; this is a reported action or suggestion). Across 1 matching discussions, The most frequently discussed action is 'Check sport suspensions by racing over the speed bumps' (1 discussions). For that action, 0 discussions report a resolution and 0 report an unsuccessful attempt. No action has an explicit, attributable resolution report under the current rules. These are forum reports and suggestions, not a confirmed diagnosis.
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My wife has developed a "tradition" over the past 5 years. In the beginning, one or two of her sisters or closest friends would come to our house to bake Christmas cookies, pies, and related swag for consumption on Christmas Eve.
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
There's a great Scientology Comfort Suite just down the block from me. They have a piano bar and they offer free Depends with your fifth drink. And we could also check our sport suspensions by racing over the speed bumps on Milbank Ave.
You didn't feel bad for the dog already? What do you have against the poor animal to think living with Schnelly is OK? The jerk probably goes around correcting the tone and inflection of his barks or points out the finer points of how to lick his *****! Probably leaves pics of shaved Poodles in provocative poses laying around the house too.
You should cherish the holidays with family and friends. My house is very quiet around the holidays. I have one family member left; the rest have passed away.
It's a small amount, but it's there. My wife actually burst into tears this morning because "you've been so good to me for the past week."
I will remember this and bring it up as an argument in my favor the next time I have done something stupid and need to be bailed out.
Yes, of course my kvetching is good-natured. My dad and I are the last surviving members of his family; if not for my wife's family, things would be quite dreary around the holidays.
Last Thanksgiving we had 38 people over for dinner; it's a huge pain in the a** but very much worth it. As you can imagine, coming from a home with 8 siblings, my wife enjoys having a crowd around @ holiday time.
Actually, I have been trying to pick up some ball-licking pointers FROM pee pee eye - you know, just in case - but the bastard won't say a word.
Jokes aside, he's a good dog. He loves his hoodie, but sometimes the hood falls down over his eyes and he wanders around bumping into sh*t until I notice and fix it for him.
