Wednesday, June 9, 2010


So after all that, (the two posts previous to this one) I get a call at 11:30 to go have a birthday lunch with family for Buzzy. I decide to go. And who shows up at 12:10 as we're walking out the door? Not Santa claus. Not the Easter bunny or the tooth fairy. Nope. You guessed it. There's my husband with his youngest nephew (17?) and a friend hauling Buzzys house out of his friend's truck. He hugged Buzzy. Hugged Breezely. Said he had to go and left. (((deep sigh of relief)))

Now, if only I could say that was the last time I ever had to see him. Ugh!

The Fat Chick

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


  1. He's a disgrace to the gene pool, and gives fathers everywhere a bad name.

  2. You really need to stop playing his games. Just know you are better then this childish routine, and move forward.

  3. I hope you and your girls are okay. Just want you to know I've been thinking about you and hope it all comes out in your favor.


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