Our movers are packing all of our stuff stuff so much stuff right now. We are off to Michigan, dear people. We still don’t have a place to live, so we’re moving in with my parents. Every grown-up’s dream. Honestly though, huge life-saver. Anyway, I’m off the grid. Laugh without me:
Mike on my ever-worsening baby brain:
“I’m going to invent Google for women. You can just type in, ‘You know, the thing. The thing I was talking to you about yesterday. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
Me: We’re having Brazilian Chicken for dinner tonight.
Mike: Do they wax the chicken instead of plucking it?
Mike yelling for help from the other room while changing a poopy diaper:
“I don’t know how much damage was done. All I know is that she grabbed her diaper and waved it over her head like a terrible towel.”
Another chicken observation:
“Boneless, skinless chicken breast? They should add ‘nipple-less’ in case people are worried.”
Mike: My brothers used to bicker like girls when they lived together.
Me: Excuse me?
Mike: Sorry. Like women.
Mike making one of the two dinners he knows how to cook:
“Jenna, prepare for the wurst.”
Me: Mike, I’m so bored today.
Mike: Just wait until she takes a nap, and then you can Google “murder” or something.
On his disagreement with me turning down the heat in our apartment:
“That’s why they call it a bun in the oven and not meat in the freezer.”