An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Drunken Underpants Remodeling Again

“Remind me to not use power tools drunk. The anality compensation kicks into overdrive, resulting in terseness and irritability. I’m still laughing at you leaving the room and me holding the drill and needing your help and saying your name about 5 times. And you not hearing it. Or if you did hear it, ignoring me completely.”

“I had my head in the refrigerator. I heard you say something but I thought you were talking to yourself as per usual.”

“I don’t talk to myself. And if I do I’m making some damn good points.”

“I’m still laughing at you standing on the foot stool in your tighty-whiteys with the head lamp strapped to your skull, demanding that I take you seriously.”

“I was all trying to dial my alpha male power tool shit in, but the booze wasn’t helping, and I didn’t want to repeat the toilet paper roll thing.”

“Oh god, the toilet paper roll thing.”

“And let us not forget about your hiccups.”

“That’s right! I totally forgot about the hiccups. I think my ribs are bruised this morning.”

“I’m almost certain the citizens of Milwaukee could hear you.”

“Can you imagine what the neighbors saw through the curtains? The silhouettes?”

” ‘Those weirdos are doing drunken underpants remodeling again.’ “

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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