My own personal gangsta, I couldn't be more proud. Hey, anything is an improvement from the constant boy band impressions he's been harassing me with. I curse the day Justin Timberlakes curly locks ever graced my TV screen. Now if I can just convince him not to sing like Tiny Tim, I can remove the ear plugs and the dog will stop howling. I have a sneaking suspicion my sister plans on getting him a karaoke machine for Christmas. I say that's grounds for sicking Buddy on her. Nothing like a good old fashioned doggy kiss to make you wish could bathe in bleach.Oh no not a noisey Christmas present. I know all too well about those. They are the worst.
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Bye

I'm a recovering single mother trying desperately to see humor in my day to day toil while simultaneously avoiding reality as much as humanly possible.





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