Two posts in one day. Can you tell I'm a cooked slab of charred up people meat this afternoon? Smoked. Jerkied. Extra blackened southern style crispy fried is me.
But thank you dear sweet McGod for these two blessed words: Vanilla latte.
I just ordered both a hot and a cold. One for each hand. One for each side of my gooey brain. One for me now and another for the three hours from now me who can't stop the constant desire to run and keep running as far away from this din of whine and bra-pulling as my sad pinkcheetahprinted summer sandals will take me.
McCafe, you are the wind beneath my wings. Figure out how to babysit, help with laundry, pick up toys and I'll have no choice but to tell my husband about us.
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