NEW RELEASES
In Our Humble Opinion . . . those of us who are crazy should just wear a t-shirt that says so.
In Our Humble Opinion…if we make you dinner, our motto is “You get what you get and you don’t be a dick about it.”
A girl and her dog
I absolutely despise having my picture taken. I am not photogenic. I am not being modest. It’s almost criminal how badly pictures turn out with me in them. There is no way I look that bad ALL THE TIME. I so hate it that there are very few pictures of me out there.
Sassy took one of me the other day, though, that I’m willing to share with you. Ignore how awful I look here and think of the old adage about how a person and their dog start to look alike.
- sleeping on the couch
Did you notice we have the same color hair?
And that we sleep in the same position?
He may be a jerky, bread-stealing, garbage-dumping, nose-biting, dining room table-sitting, bed hog…
But he’s mine.
In Our Humble Opinion . . . it’s okay that the newest iPad is thicker, we are too.
In Our Humble Opinion…Google is faster but encyclopedias were more fun.
In Our Humble Opinion…rum cake is the perfect food. Cake and Rum. Never have two birds been hit with a more perfect stone.
A long and winding tangent
Have you guys seen the Taco Bell commercial where some idiots drive 900 miles for a taste of some new sub-par taco? How pathetic must your life be that you would load yourself in your car with four “friends” to eat that garbage? Perhaps it’s because I live in the Southwestern desert mere minutes from the Mexican border and the home of Sonoran Mexican food – arguably the best Mexican food in the ENTIRE WORLD.
We are the birth place of chimichangas although there is some debate about which restaurant was actually the birther. Also carne seca. Dried in cages on the roof.
Crap. Now I’m hungry. 
I also hate the commercial with the insinuation that the brown M&M is naked. It’s just stupid even though I’m pretty sure that is Bebe Neuwirth doing her voice.
Does anyone else have issues with M&Ms? By “issue” I mean do you have to eat them in a certain order? I do and it seems that Ava does as well. Further proof we have some intermingling DNA. I haven’t checked with Kelli but I’ll bet she’s normal about M&Ms – she’s shows off her crazy in other ways.
Just so you know the correct order to eat M&M’s is brown, orange, yellow, green, red, blue. Some may debate the order of the last three, but they’d be wrong. Of course, we are assuming that your eating a regular package of M&Ms and not some wonky Easter package or something where the Mars candy people tempt complete chaos by filling the package with pastels. They think they’re cute but they’re not.
I talk all preachy like I’m a militant M&M purist but, I assure you, I’ll eat the pastel ones if they’re around. It just takes longer ’cause I have to figure out the color hierarchy.
Yes, I’m nuts.
Speaking of nuts….
In Our Humble Opinion . . . it’s no secret that we can be difficult to deal with, we are difficult to deal with.
In Our Humble Opinion . . . two wrongs don’t make a right, it just means you’ve met two out of three Quill Sisters.
Do any of you know someone in the Chinese mob?
Hold on to your seats, ladies and gentlemen. I have an idea.
A little back story. You may have deduced that the Sisters are not happy about their current employment. Bank of No Forks is not really a good fit for Ava and me. We’ve already prepared our resignation letter – we figure we only need the one – and all we need to do is fill in the date. Kelli is unhappy with her state of employment and when she finally gets some it’s almost guaranteed she won’t like it. Why should she? Work sucks.
The Quill Husbands are unfulfilled with their jobs, too, with a government contractor and a school district.
All this paired with the fact that My Honey is in possession of an empty warehouse has made us all antsy to come up with something we can do together that won’t involve The Man. We are all agreed that what ever company we form will pay for forks for all the employees.
Then came the fuel for my idea. I really love the internet.
Panda poo tea guy
Soooo, there is the guy in China who is growing Panda Poo Tea. Now don’t turn up your nose just yet. Let me explain.
He’s using the poo from the panda sanctuary and breeding centers as fertilizer to grow the tea plants. Apparently, when the pandas eat the bamboo they only absorb a fraction of the nutrients so the rest is in the poo. Nutritious poo. Indeed.
Here’s where I think I can sell My Honey and Ed on the idea. The tea is going to sell for around $200.00 per cup. PER CUP! Making it the most expensive tea on Earth. That’s one hell of a return on our investment.
I brought it up at dinner and My Honey said, “If you can figure out how to get a panda, you can keep it.” The kids heard it and they will swear to it in a court of law if necessary.
I suggested that we can get somewhere around thirty pandas comfortably in that warehouse.
Us in our panda suits cuddling a mini-pooper
“Oh. My. God,” My Honey started back pedaling, “You are gonna be in so much trouble when the State Department finds out.”
“Oh, really. What does the State Department have to do with it?” I asked. “I’d be more worried about the Chinese people banging on the door.”
Lady, lady, you open door and give me back my panda.
Please forgive my momentary lapse of judgement. I can’t help it, that’s how I hear it in my head.
“The State Department will act as the go between with you and the Chinese government.” He tells me these things like I’m really concerned about the State Department. The only way I see this becoming a problem is if they start tracking the massive number of bamboo shipments coming to the warehouse.
“Fine, any panda you can obtain legally, you can keep.” Look how he’s trying to change the rules now. This irritates me to no end.
“No, no, no!” I said. “There is no way I’m coming up with a million dollars to “borrow” a panda from the Chinese government. However I obtain my panda will be creative, I assure you.”
Let’s all practice for the gentlemen in the black suits when they knock on the door. Ready? Repeat after me.
“What panda?”