brian loves his mom, and holly is old now.

i still do tattoos, ya'll.
i'm sayin'.
brian showed up, spur of the moment,
and we zapped up some birthday present magic;
a tribute to his ma,
which she'll get to check out on her b-day on wednesday.
shhhhhh,
(it's a surprise.)

speaking of birthday magic,
our homegirl, holly, is 30 years old today!
what an old-ass bizzle, an' that.
normally she spends a week up here to celebrate,
but she has a very nice young manboy in her life,
so of course we get beat for candleblowin' birthday times,
in all likelyhood in exchange for other kinds of blowin' birthday times.....
jobbies,
as a quick aside,
isn't just a reference to sparkling romantic oral pleasures anymore,
because, thanks to google,
i know now that it is a scottish reference to poops.
droppin' jobbies, an' that type sh!t......hilarious.
not that it's completely relevant to the matter at hand, of course.
but anyway, back to business:
happy berfday, holly!!!
we'll be eatin' cake without her,
celebratin' gratitude an' that;
although she'll still be up here in it for thanksful givin's,
vegan-style, of course...

tomorrow,
i pick up my little legacy-laden ladies for a week of strong family funtimes.
me, mine, and my mini-human lovelies, my ninjas,
celebratin' unselfishly,
WITHOUT a dead bird carcass sittin' on the table.
because that's flippin' gross.
we'll still have all the other grateful staples of natives and buckle-shoe dutch a-holes, though,
except in compassion-and-mushroom-filled format-
which reminds me:
stuffin' should really be called dressing
if it doesn't come out cooked from the insides of something,
even though it doesn't actually go on salads really....
still, some chef gave each a different name,
stuffing. dressing.
even when they have the exact same ingredients,
only just without being shoved up deep into the chest cavity of a deceased animal......
which is also called butt-nasty....
like a steamin' satchel of hot jobbies, ya'll,
never quiet, never soft...