Can't say I blame her. The fucker is pretty nasty. And I think I'm going to be eating this shit for a month!
I'd called mom to check on something for the recipe but she wasn't home and talked to M. The kid is on cloud nine. She'd written to the lead singer of Simple Plan and told him that she loved their music and he wrote her back to thank her. Awwwww...
I'll be sending out ficathon assignments later this evening.
Sooner if I screw up my dinner. Is it possible to be genetically pre-disposed to not cook well?