“I’ve decided that sober is the new drunk.”

“Really? In THAT case, I am seconds from doing a naked table dance with a lamp shade on my head.”

“Can you put that off for a couple of hours? Because I would totally drive up to Logan to see that.”

“As much as I’d LOVE to see you again, you may not want to do that, Sarah. Women that are almost 6 months pregnant are not usually on the “must see” list for naked table dancing. Lampshade or no. It would make your eyes rupture and bleed and I care about your eyesight, I really do.”

“Oh, yeah.  I keep forgetting that you’re all knocked up and growing a penis.”

“Growing penises seems to be a special talent that I have. Take a note: When I die I want to have “Loralee was awesome at growing penises” engraved on my headstone.”

“Well, everyone has to be good at something, right?”

“Actually, growing penises really isn’t that difficult. It’s raising them to not be dickheads that is the real challenge.”

“That totally needs to be a t-shirt.”

“WORD.”

P.S. Seriously, it makes me laugh every single time.

P.P.S. The To kill a mockingbird reference SLAYS me.

P.P.P.S. Yes, I am still sick. Shocking, I know. I’m not getting better but I’m not getting worse. My fever is staying put but it hasn’t increased and reached 103 so that is a good thing. (Thanks and love for the sweet emails. So many of you magically seem to know my physical state pales compared to the toll these months are taking on my head and morale.)

P.P.P.P.S. What the hell IS a chiffarobe, anyway?