The Houseguest has been a great roommate -- except for when she's a pain in the ass. Like when it comes to certain smells -- like pot pies.
Despite the innuendo, click-bait title, and juvenile humor, there is a decided lack of porn in this post. Just me being abused by my crappy ISP. Again.
Ever know you've screwed up? Like really bad? Like someone told you to do something and you said yeah, yeah, you would take care of it — and you meant to — but you just didn't get around it because, well, you just didn't? This is one of those times.
So, the Houseguest kept bugging me to mail her early voter ballot to her. Trips to the post office never end well — but what else could I do? So off I went.
So, I superglued my hands together. Again. Yeah, that's right — again.
Ever have one skill that you practiced ceaselessly for hours on end until you perfected it? But you never had a chance to use it. That was me — until today.
Nothing makes me break into a cold sweat like the thought of going clothes shopping. Yet there was no getting around it — it was time to go to the mall again.
I've always been fascinated by history and genealogy, so it's been somewhat ironic that I know so little about my family history. So I ordered a DNA test to see what kind of genetic surprises might be hiding in the Layton woodpile.
Wow, it's been over a year since the Houseguest started renting a room. How time flies! In celebration, I thought I'd look back and share one of our earlier misunderstandings.