Our weekend has been full, and many pictures were taken, and I wanted to post some on the blog tonight, and tell y’all what a fabulous time we really had, but then Hubs and I went on a date!
A real date. There may have even been some hand-holding at the theater.
But we didn’t sit behind those people at all, because we were totally there for the movie.
The movie, which wasn’t all that great. My official review of The Bounty Hunter? Save your hard-earned, American dollars and buy some new mascara with it, which I need. Yes, I need a new tube of mascara very badly. Put The Bounty Hunter on your Netflix list when it moves to DVD. It’s worth the home-theater experience; it is not worth the extravagant cost of seeing it on the big screen, and it doesn’t even matter if you get a fantastic bag of butter with popcorn on the top, either. Even for that, the movie wasn’t worth it.
And that’s saying something people, because movie theater popcorn is my favorite.
Good mascara, though, is worth whatever price you’re forced to pay, because clumpy mascara makes me want to scream.
What with the date and all, and then retrieving the boy from Mam and Pa’s house, due to the fact that he decided to pull a fast one and wheeze and wanted to come home, I’m running a little behind tonight. Combine all of that with the simple fact that we gutted the boy’s bedroom today and scoured it from top to bottom, because we were simply afraid that Hoarders would call us and ask to film one of their episodes at our house, and you can clearly see why the blog post filled with pictures just isn’t going to happen tonight.
Because, after cleaning all day and taking three Hefty garbage bags filled to their brims with broken toys and trash and Happy Meal trinkets out of the boy’s room, I am not in the mood to deal with Blogger and its little antics, where snapshots are concerned.
Blogger, I don’t have time for you and your pranks tonight. I don’t have the energy to dedicate to serious editing, when you squish all of my paragraphs together after I slip in a picture. Oh, Blogger. I want to sing a sad song to you, like “(Hey, Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” Because you, Blogger, have been doing me wrong! And because I miss 1975 and BJ Thomas.
Suffice it to say that our weekend was the very best. And the boy’s room sparkles. And I had a date. And I’ve made a little bed of blankets and sleeping bags on our bedroom floor, so that the poor, slightly-wheezing, terribly cute boy can sleep there for the night.
Where Mama can hear him!
Because that’s what Mamas do.
Happy Sunday night, y’all.