oh nos.

It is a terrible thing when you drag yourself into the shower in the morning because you think you smell like a Fuse-sicle, only to later discover that it is the house, not you, that smells like cigarettes. Cigarettes! Why must you make me so itchy-hurty-swollen? I feel like-a the poopoo. Last night was fun though.

First, a word about the weekend:

I think I’m getting to the point where I find Lincolnton quaint and adorable rather than stifling and vaguely depressing. And really, nothing is cuter or more representative of small-town kitsch than the Apple Festival. The fam and I made our rounds at the festival and then the lot of us went out to dinner at Fox’s, which has the best seafood ever. Ever. I found out the secret to why their baked potatoes are so damn tasty: they boil them in salt water a little before putting them in the oven. Genius! I was reminded of how when we were kids my dad would always order the seafood platter and give mom his deviled crab (her favorite). I used to think that this was the most romantic thing ever. I guess that I now think the most romantic thing ever would be having “International Small Arms Traffic Blues” sung to me, but what do I know about how the world works? Nothing, nothing.

Oh god, today. My only consolation is that eventually I will get to go home, eat a baked potato, take a nap, and go to Bryan & Andy’s to watch movies.

P.S. Holly: your head scratches so good make-a grown man cry.