Jan 26, 2017
Jan 6, 2017
Alright fellow Pounderers, now that all of the smoke has cleared from your New Year's festivities and the last remaining mystery from the night is whose idea it was to bring a party donkey, life has hopefully begun to return to something a little more normal for you. We can keep the donkey thing between the two of us, at least until all the charges are dropped. We don't judge around here. In case you didn't know, unlike the inflatable kind, real donkeys can become unpredictable when they drink. I think most people would understand why you both had awful hangovers, and why your New Year's Resolution is what it is.
NyQuil was the drug of choice at the Shelton household New Year's Eve as I chose to be sick that entire weekend. Waterworks, not fireworks ruled the night. The kind that drip from your nose. You know, the sexy kind. While I did miraculously stay up to see midnight even after believing I might not see nine o' clock, I did not see twelve thirty. Now Monica is sick. I made it look so damned cool she wanted to get in on the action. Maybe we'll be done with all of that for the rest of 2017 and we can focus on world domination, horror movies and Mexican food. Our desires are simple, you see.