Bos says, “It’s third-beer o’clock.”
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Wing and I are sharing an early lunch. Canned soup. He gets all of the pearl onions, because pearl onions give me a gross shiver.
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We couldn’t find an invitation we liked… so we made it ourselves. The best part was dropping those bad boys at the post office.
What we REALLY want to know is “what did the man just say to the lady?”
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Don’t tell anybody, those bastards buy all the tickets up before I get paid on Friday…
I’m pouring one out on the curb for my man’s fish, Sushi Newfish.
He was a good betta, I guess.
Sushi Newfish.
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Mrs Eaves' Camera Shy
Bos' Nine Months Blog