Friends Don't Let Friends Drink Bleach

So. My mom has gone home. And that's all I'm going to say about that. The original plan was that we would go home with her today, spend a few days, and leave before the bleach cocktail starts to look too appealing. However, in a clear bid for an allowance hike, T1 came home with a fever. A fever and a cult-member-like malleability. Trip cancelled, regrets all around, and Mom whirling out of here like a tornado in the dead of night, to miss the storm.

Crisis averted; now here's a plug for a buddy of mine. Everyone, go here now, read all about her great and wonderful life events. Then come back here, we'll drink beer and talk about her behind her back. Because that's what friends do.

Ok, now let's talk about the important stuff. T2's birthday was a success. She got every My Little Pony imaginable, a handful of My Little Glue Factory knock-offs, and the doll. She was an extremely happy little pickle, all day. Oh, and there was some cake and ice cream involved, as well.

Score.