Soooooo, next time I disolve into my Gaelic roots, SOMEONE STOP ME!!!! It seems a very real likelihood that, whenever things go really poorly for me, I make some kind of morose fool of myself.

Yes, things have been awful. But not without the odd moment of humour. For instance, CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP...and I do not mean the cute baby duck kind of "cheep", either.

I mentioned to the Mole that I threw out 3 old bras yesterday that were digging nasty holes in my chest and said, "Sweetpea, I need to buy some decent underwear". To which he repied, (And I am not joking here folks), "Will $10 bucks at Value Village cover it?"

For those of you that do not have the priveledge of having a Value Village in your neighborhood, IT IS A FUCKING SECOND HAND STORE!!!! Yes, my ever-so unevolved Hubby thinks I should buy my underwear "gently used".

So, what do I do with this you ask? I look at him like he just burped volcanic ash, wait about 30 seconds and say "give me your fucking bank card". He understood that he had just made a terrible mistake without really knowing what he had said wrong and handed over said bank card. Some things just aren't worth explaining, are they?