We Won't Tell Anyone, Kay?

As I waddled around the kitchen this morning, the air filled with the soothing aroma of fresh brewed coffee, mixing gently with the nose hair eating stench of Miss Clairol cooking on my hag hair, I noticed some movement out the window, over at the vacant lot.

When I looked outside, I saw Bubba Joe Bob over there, preparing to move the old shed. "Silly Bubba," I thought. He had his camo Carhart gear on, like it was winter or something. Then, I noticed the little Bubbette he had with him, some misguided mother's child I usually see tartin' 'round town in Daisy Dukes cut off plumb up to her coochie business. She too was wearing more clothes than usual.

Hmmm.

I had the air conditioner on, but it was set on 68°. I walked over to the front door, peeking out, being careful not to be seen, what with my head all slicked back with youth inducing hair color and my flowered robe with no belt tie.

There was no sense in flashing my bodacious tattas to little Bubbette, glorious in their unrestrained state. I'd hate to make her feel inadequate.

*cough*

Imagine my shock when I saw that the temperature outside was only 50°... and here I was running the a.c.

Sometimes I'm a biscuit short of the preacher's plate at a Baptist social.

Anywho.. that's my Saturday so far. How's it going with you?

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!