Frank is out of town this week. Today is day 2. Picture this: I wanted to take Jack to a Paint-Your-Own-Pottery place to do hand prints on a cup or something like that. Well, the town was doing work right outside so he was much more interested in the digger than sitting down to paint something. We all had grubby clothes on, which, for me, included a purple old shirt that has shrunk a little so now it's SHORT. We left quickly and decided to try one of those indoor playground places. It wasn't very well done, everything looked a little old. Jack was playing with the wooden train set and had a FIT when the magnet connectors wouldn't go together. I tried to show him to flip one around. He threw himself down on the floor screaming. Time to leave. I didn't realize that we were the only people in the place and the manager was missing. How do I pay for my $8 hour when nobody's around? I left a note and a $10 bill since I didn't have exact change. Friggin-A, I paid extra and I didn't like the place. Jack was still screaming, I had my purse and Joe too. So Jack in one arm, Joe propped up in the other. Joe grabbed a lock of my hair and pulled it out of my pony tail (oh, and I'm in desperate need of a root job). Jack's still flailing and screaming. Joe's feet caught my pants and pushed my waist down so, thanks to my short shirt, my fat belly is now poking out. Not poking. Blobbing.
I walked across the parking lot like that. I put Jack down and he started to run. I did catch him but if there had been a car right there he would have been creamed.
So, can I start drinking?