SUNDAY I watched Food Network for a while and then started and finished Serpent Girl by Matthew Carnahan. I got it at the library last week, and I would definitely recommend it. Fast, funny, sexy, cool. The phrase “sphincter puckering danger” really lifted the fog of the Sunday Blues.

SATURDAY I went to Crystal’s house and then we took her niece to hit some tennis balls. Alaina is 5 years old, and had never hit a tennis ball in her life. I did marginally better than Alaina. After we’d played for a while, we packed up and then Alaina said she didn’t feel well, sat down, and said her stomach hurt. Commence puking. Crystal goes to get her car, and Alaina says she can’t walk. At this point I realize she needs ice, and all she had was a bottle of apple juice. Crystal came back with the car, and since Alaina didn’t want to get in the car, but rather stay sitting on the asphalt in the shade and vomit. I drove like a crazy up to the 7-11, which although it is approximately 500 feet away, it took me about 10 minutes because I had to flip about 15 u-turns and College Parkway sucks my ass. When I got back, she’d stopped throwing up, and was feeling better. I gave her the cup of ice with a nominal amount of Sprite in it and told her to drink it veeeeeeeeery slowly.

Crystal: She had sausage and eggs for breakfast.
Kristin: So I saw.

We went back to Crystal’s, where I hurriedly changed into my work clothes so that I could go cater a party that afternoon, drove like a crazy (again) to work, and parked my car in the lot in front of the now closed pet store. I made a solemn promise to the world that if anyone touched my car while I was gone I would fuck shit up/piss down their throat/send in the hounds call my insurance company and then cry. (Hello, $500 deductable.)

The event we catered was a 50th wedding anniversary party. We were responsible for cooking the meat (hamburgers, hot dogs, pork BBQ and BBQ chicken) and the daughter-in-law made the salads and such. The lady dwarf made the deviled eggs. (Not a joke.)

During my time at work I pinched the shit out of the fishbelly skin on the inside my forearm between the barrel grill and grill stand. They were both rusted all to hell, and I thought I would get lockjaw. I burned the shit out of my thumb, picking up a very hot metal lid to a sterno. On the bright side, I only dropped about 5 hot dogs off the grill instead of an entire turkey breast (like two jobs ago), and I didn’t come even remotely close to setting an entire park on fire (like last time).

Some guy: Did you know there’s a fishhook in your nose?
Kristin: Yes.

After we were all done and cleaned up, I went home, had some wine, and watched the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries on DVD in its entirety, which had me up until 3:00am.

I know how to party hearty.

FRIDAY Crystal and I were supposed to go shopping, but we ended up skipping it because she was in a foul mood, and by the time she had started unfouling herself it was too late to embark on such a shopping trip. I stayed home and watched “Napoleon Dynamite” with the commentary track on.

Did I mention my wild, wild party skills?

These are the spam senders and subject lines in my Hotmail junk folder:

Angela Sanchez: SEXUALLY-EXPLICIT: c true
Jimmy Hartley: Nasty babe enjoys getting finger-fucked
Rachelle Ortiz: Back door hardcore couple sex
Sophia Weber*: Cum dripping asshole
Elva: Asian twink loves fist fucking his older ... [uh oh]
Marissa Roberts: SEXUALLY-EXPLICIT: f badr
Marylou**: Babes gives deep throat
Mari Gaines: Monica mayhem is doggied and jizzed
SideStep: SideStep's TravelFinds - July 27

* Sophia gets right to the heart of the matter, does she not?
** My dead grandmother’s name.

Nina and Jer skipped their final parenting class to go to a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert featuring Willy Nelson and a free sneak preview of the new “Dukes of Hazaard” movie.

Jeremy: “I know there are black people in Connecticut, but I definitely know where they were NOT tonight.”

Also, have you seen the Jessica Simpson video for “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’?” What the shit was that shit?

In conclusion: I want a corn dog.

Kristin