Thursday, November 25, 2010

I collected these in my head throughout the day.

Another sign I'm not mature enough to get married yet: I kinda want to walk down the aisle to a slowed-down, strings version of The B-52's "Rock Lobster."

Thanks, Butterball website, for informing me today that I should've started defrosting my bird last Friday. I DID NOT HAVE A TURKEY THEN, HOW COULD I DEFROST IT? (Guess who's getting up at 6:00 to fill her sink with cold water and a 13 lb. turkey?)

I was concerned for my pan of brownies, until I realized the strange smell coming from our oven each time I opened the door was the scent of clean.

We cleared the recycling into my room to make insta-extra space for everyone coming to Thanksgiving, so it looks like a bag woman lives next to my bookshelf. Note to self: take out the recycling while you have a company van borrowed.

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