Paint Chips

Ok, so the Dingo has informed me that he, in fact, did not eat glue in kindergarten. The following convo ensued.

Doodle: Everyone tasted paste as a kid.

Dingo: No, not most kids Doodle.

Doodle: You are so making that up! It smelled like mint!

Dingo: Still didn't eat it.

Doodle: So I guess we can file that as evidence #783 of what is wrong with me?

Dingo: I think we are at #784.

Doodle: Whatever, I've lost count at this point.

I can't help but be reminded of the movie Tommy Boy when David Spade asks, "Did you eat paint chips as a kid?" Why no David, I ate paste, thank you very much.

Another storm seems to be rolling into Memphis. That means I have to figure out what to do with these pork chops I just bought since the Dingo doesn't enjoy the sport of monsoon grilling. I'm also going to paint my toes. I'm thinking green will be suitable. I've taken to doing my own mani/pedis and using that money towards tanning. If you don't have olive colored skin you don't understand. I turn the yellowy-green color of olive oil when I am pale. Its not a nice look.

Wow, we sound exciting lately. My "little brother," aka a guy I was raised with so closely that we decided we count as somehow related, will be in town this weekend. He is wanting to show his girlfriend downtown and I think it's music fest so I'm sure craziness will happen. Hopefully something as funny as when our dear friend A got her boots peed on by a drunk stranger at Silky's. (Note: She didn't think it was as funny as I did.)