Well, sadly the Memorial holiday weekend is coming to a close. I'm about to write up an emergency Last Will and Testament because I'm fairly sure that I'll be falling into a meat coma any time now. Stoney smoked a rack of ribs and a half dozen chicken wings this afternoon ... and dinner was so delicious that I really don't have the words. All I'll say is that before tonight, I'd say my favorite wings were the smoked chicken wings at Smokey Bones ... but screw that. Whatever Stoney did to that chicken? He just needs to do it again. And again. Like every night. Until I die of a BBQ chicken overdose.
I've had a great weekend at his house. He gave me more closet space and dresser drawers ... so, naturally, I filled up the newly available space with girly stuff. So now, instead of having a dresser full of socks and underwear and various pieces of dude-ness, he's sharing space with bras and silky undies and emergency chocolate. Wait. Um ... doesn't everyone have emergency chocolate? Don't you judge me ...
This is the first blog post I've ever written from his house. This is a momentous occasion! If I can wake up tomorrow ... and make it into work on time, we'll be able to call this experiment a success. If, on the other hand, I call in sick so I can stay in the big, comfy bed all day? Well, let's just keep our fingers crossed ...
That don't like soul food
They still got a soul
And it don't mean that you got no rhythm
If you don't like rock 'n roll
But if your tastes are like mine
You like cider not wine
And your very favorite thing to do
Is get a pretty girl dancin' to jug-band music
And a mess of mama's barbecue
Emmet Otter's Jug Band - BBQ