Impotent Impotables

I awoke this morning to a weird smell in the house. It was very different from anything I have ever smelled. Nobody could figure out what it was. It was obviously not gas, definitely not food, and resembled burning and chemicals. It spread rapidly throughout the house. We wanted to make sure the house wasn't going to catch fire, so we called the fire department. It took them a few minutes, but eventually they figured it out and they pronounced our fridge dead. Thankfully, we have a spare fridge in the garage and my mom was able to bring her mini fridge back from her office, but it's nowhere near enough room for all of our crap. It was a good excuse to get rid of our rotten stuff, at least, but now we need a new fridge.

My Doberman puppy swallowed a cooked chicken bone whole yesterday. He's made it a day and a half without any problems, so chances are he will be okay. It's just a matter of waiting until he passes the bone.

Two of the sunflower seeds have sprouted, the radishes are sprouting like crazy, the green onions are just sprouting and the spinach seeds have been planted. We also got a cucumber plant, which will go in a pot tomorrow, and some peas because the Doberman ate my pack of pea seeds.

Purity balls are the creepiest thing I have ever come across. Young girls wearing the same white dress dance around a cross and pledge TO THEIR FATHERS to stay "pure" until marriage. That is just wrong and gross and barfy. If this practice isn't abolished in my lifetime, I will at least suggest changing the definition of "purity balls" to a clean-shaven, shiny, smooth, perfectly sculpted ball sack. That way, these creepy dads will have to face their gay sides for a split second and be too uncomfortable to think about purity balls because they threaten their precious masculinity. Maybe it will make them finally want to take the truck nuts off of their pickup trucks.

In the mean time, I will invent truck ovaries.

So, what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? Well, most of it has nothing to do with it. As a result of downsizing the fridge, I had to throw out what was left of my cappuccino martini and a third of a bottle of Gewürztraminer. The latter is my favourite wine, so I had a final glass of it and helped finish off a bottle of St-Remy a la creme. It is a sad day for us lushes.