What happened this weekend with Biff. I'd blame the steaks, but they're just a symbol
I've decided that I can fix all my woes by joining Weight Watchers, a support group and a cult.
The day started with an omen. I put on my new bright blue Wonder Woman t-shirt. Simone, my 4-year-old daughter told me it was too young for me and I shouldn’t buy it but I bought it anyway. When she saw me wearing it, she was mad because she wanted one too, and who can blame her? I’m obsessed with Wonder Woman.
There’s something funny in there with a friend telling you to read the blog you just wrote. So I did read it. Oh. Okay. I see where you could infer that. No. I didn’t break it off. I was ready to. Internally, I had my car keys out and was making all the leaving noises I could: “That was fun. See ya later! Take care!” But then something stopped me. Two things, really. First I talked to Biff again. And secondly, I talked to myself.
In which I tell about our first night at the B&B. Awkward.