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Puncherson_64LadyBrain_64

A continuing lack of spoilers

Butch:

Well, cake turned out ok.

Nugget…..not so much.

Don’t think I’ll have bloggage today.

Feminina:

Awww MAN!

Poor Nugget. Poor you.

At least you still get to go to Nashville! This is all just advance payments on that.

Butch:

Yeah…..I got nothing. Well, I got a kid at home, a whole lot of laundry to do and a burning need for a nap.

Oh, and Mrs. McP’s home, so tonight ain’t looking good, either.

Did you play?

Feminina:

I did. I didn’t achieve anything except to go back and re-do that bit where my companions were frozen before, but it went fine and I could actually finish the mission, so that’s the important thing.

Whew! When the choice came to take the dudes on the left or the right, I had originally taken the left, but just for luck I took the ones on the right this time. Probably had nothing to do with it, but maybe take the ones on the right when you get a chance. Just for luck.

So anyway, no game-breaking bug, things are going fine, no one is barfing at my house (knock on wood). Mr. O’ is actually home sick right now, but coughing, not vomiting. I’ll take it.

Butch:

Ah, phew. Frankly, I was just asking so you’d say “It’s cool, no game breaking bug.”

I worry, you know.

Take coughing over this. Last night’s score: Three sheet changes, two underwear changes, SEVEN times we had to wake up and/or take him to the bathroom, and, count ’em, four showers. For Nugget, not me, thankfully.

I feel bad for Mr. O, but tell him he wins. On many levels.

Feminina:

Oh lord, poor Nugget. And poor you.

I’ll take coughing any day.

Butch:

This has been the weirdest bug. You’re fine, then you’re REALLY NOT, then, about twelve hours later, you’re fine again.

But that twelve hours sure does suck.

It’s so damn sudden.

You not having a game breaking bug is the best news I’ve had in days. That’s what it’s come to.

Feminina:

Just keep thinking of Nashville. Blissful, kid-free Nashville. No vomit. Lots of booze. Although not so much booze that there’s vomit.

It’s gonna be great. Really.

Butch:

It does look pretty cool. Maybe less so for you, as a lot of the reasons to be excited (I mean, besides the no kids and the booze) involve meat. Big on barbecue. Big on hot chicken (it’s a thing). But hey, big riverfront park, botanical gardens, lots of museums, lots of music….

And no kids. And booze.

I would, in the meantime, like to play some fucking video games, which hasn’t happened in a while.

At least I still have unruined Boston Cream Cake. And at least Nugget never cared for it much in the first place, cuz DAMN.

Feminina:

Well, I’m not the one going, so it doesn’t HAVE to look cool for me. I’ll just stay here and mope. By which I mean play video games. I’ll be fine.

I’m also glad you didn’t ruin Boston Cream Cake for yourself. That would have been the real tragedy. No amount of laundry or showers will cure that.

Butch:

Preach, sister.

I’ll travel blog it! People love that shit.

Feminina:

As long as you talk about the booze you’re drinking, they’ll be fine.

Butch:

You never know what they want. Your lament about overwriting your husband’s save got us a new follower, after all. The internet is a cruel, heartless, weirdassed place.

Feminina:

That it is.

And here we are, just trying to be helpful with our fitness tips and terrifying cautionary examples.

Butch:

And our lovely new line of scented candles.

Feminina:

Which go great with our pear brandy and burlap lingerie! Everything you need for a perfect romantic evening!

After you make multiple saves of your game data.

Saving marriages around the world, that’s us.

Butch:

Sorry, I was busy cleaning up more barf.

You know you’re in a bad way when you have to go out to get more paper towels and wet jet pads.

This sucks.

Feminina:

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m REALLY glad right now that we haven’t seen you in a long time.

Good luck, man.

Butch:

Dude, I wish I hadn’t seen me in a long time.

That was complicated, and yet made perfect sense to my tired, tired mind.

Feminina:

Makes perfect sense to me.

Hang in there. The barfing must eventually end.

Butch:

One would think. He’s a mess, though. When Meats and Mrs. McP and I got this, it didn’t last this long. He’s still not eating and is sleeping.

Poor guy.

But man, I just stole a piece of that cake. I’m very glad I did not ruin that cake. That is a good cake.

Feminina:

I want cake!

But not enough to come anywhere near your house.

Butch:

Wise. Very wise.

But I’ve had this! I’m immune! And holy shit do I deserve cake.

The Boston Cream Cake is really an undervalued cake. And it gets even better when you add rum.

This really has been a week or so of extremes. On one hand, Nashville and cake. On the other hand….everything else.

Feminina:

You’re immune! You’re safe! And you deserve cake. Lots and lots of cake.

Butch:

Can I have rum, too?

I did manage to get out some, as Mrs. McP is home, and grabbed wine. Priorities. Figure that I can get groceries delivered if he’s home tomorrow, too (which looks very, very likely), but wine?

Gotta get the wine.

Feminina:

My friend, if anyone deserves rum and/or wine, it is you. Your priorities are sound.

Butch:

At least I have leftovers for my dinner tonight, I have booze, and I can skip hockey. I’m gonna go pick a fight with Kevin just to feel better.

Feminina:

That sounds like an excellent plan.

I mean, not a plan, nothing good comes of planning, but an excellent thing to maybe spontaneously wind up doing with no forethought whatsoever.

Enjoy.