i am sorry, dear reader, that you could not partake in the shitshow that occured between the hours of 8p and 2a in the avenue of puerto rico domicile we call "home." (with quotes, we do)
valentine is a wretched saint that brings about temper and plague every year it comes.
there was yelling, there was some yelling, and we all survived, and we made it through, but i am telling you, dear reader, that if we hadn't eaten a spinach salad with avo and sprouts and some organic balsamic paul newman spittle, but rather had had beefburgers with heinz and yellow mustard, that we wouldn't have ended so civilly.
we're okay. we're going to all get through it. and we plan to have a great time this potus w/e, dear reader, and we hope you can join us. look for the dancing white people at dc9 on sunday. you'll have a drink in each hand and we'll be the ones in the moose costumes.
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Excuse me, you all survived. I was the victim of two harassing phone calls last night. One from Queen Vaj and the other Fatty. They were conspiring against one another (if you want the details, just write me). Jeez, and I have to put up with this shit show all weekend!!
The shit show has arrived, Fatty, yes Fatty is in the kitchen cooking for Queen Vaj and crew. Shit SHOW. Dear readers, feel my pain, feel the pain.
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