I don’t bake. Sorry. I make a mean plate of nachos, and a wicked guacamole (odd that my two go-to plates are football-watchin’ dishes that can be made by a 5-year-old double amputee) but mama can’t bake worth shit.
And this is no surprise to anyone who has had more than a simple conversation with me.
My [...]

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Red Dirt Babies,
I’m moving. And I fucking hate moving. More than I hate children, people in “love” (don’t get me started on “love …” bullshit), beets, slow drivers and Valentine’s Day put together. That’s a lot of hate and anger.
My roommate is moving in with her boyfriend — see No. 2 on list of things [...]

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In 24 hours (presumably), we will be the fuck out of Norman and into our my wife’s gorgeous new home in the historic neighborhood of nunya dam bizniss. But until then, I will likely keel over from exhaustion and seven pints of black Jack.
There is nothing worse than moving. Well, except for a rose bush [...]

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