here comes random blog-blog

People are talking about this "Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo" reality show. They live in a town next to Macon, GA. I lived in Macon on the ninth hole of a fancy schmancy golf course, far from the Boo-Boos. I'm not sure if that is their last name or not, don't sue me.

I have not seen the show "Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo" because I'd rather light myself on fire, but I did catch a clip in which the whole family refers to vaginas as "biscuits" because "they kinda look like biscuits, if they're done right, like from Hardees." I may never be able to eat a biscuit again.

Also, my girlfriends and I hung out at a Hardees parking lot in high school and OMG I'll never get that year back. 

Also, that year I dated a boy in the airforce. I was 17. He had a mustache and broke up with me because he said I wasn't experienced enough for him. His name was Fred. Really. I dated a mustachioed pilot named Fred for three months who dumped me in a Hardee's parking lot.

I have never had a Hardee's biscuit.

Did I ever tell y'all about when I worked in the golf club pro shop? Did I ever tell y'all how good the grilled cheese was from the club? Hand-cut fries. Sweet tea. I worked there for the food. 

My hubs found out he has a broken arm. It had been broken for a week. He had a bicycle accident with a curb. 

I found out my grandfather can't stand it when I call and do not leave a message. I never leave messages. I don't like to leave them and I don't like to receive them. I had to listen to my grandfather say someone called and didn't leave a message and "how are you supposed to know who it was?!" He doesn't have caller ID. Ooops.

I'm going to the hometown next month. You know what that means. More pics of my grandfather's house, which is like a time capsule of 1987. Have I told y'all that a few years ago my grandfather was using a clear shower curtain liner as a table cloth because he wanted the grain of the wood to show from the table? 

Y'all, my house smells like eucalyptus and mint from this weird natural ant killer. Eucalyptus is the worst scent ever. It's like a bad spa. In a bad resort. That has scratchy towels. And the eucalyptus is dusty. And the spa receptionist is named Heaven and has a lip ring and a tattoo of a yin-yang on the back of her neck and her cell phone keeps vibrating with texts from her boyfriend, Harley, who was the emcee at the skating rink (working on his rap career) and is "between jobs" and staying by his mama's house.

That's what eucalyptus reminds me of. 

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