No, this isn't another post about my vagina. It's not even a post about JJ's vagina. Shockingly, it's not a post about vagina at all. It's a post about how Mr. TK is in the dog house.

You see, we went to a festival on Saturday. We did the usual gorging ourselves on food and talking the boy out of riding rides that looked like they were assembled by drunk carnies hell bent on having their revenge on the uppity folk with a full set of teeth. The boy guilted Mr. TK into riding some sissy roller coaster where the boy squealed with glee while Mr. TK shit his pants.

It was on our way out that Mr. TK had the genius idea to let the boy play a game where the prize was a live goldfish. You already know where this is going. The only one who didn't see the end result a mile away was Mr. TK. About thirty seconds after Mr. TK insisted that the games are rigged and there was no way the boy could possibly win a fish, we were on our way to Petsmart.

Meet Rex, aka Mr. TK is in Deep Shit.

We are now the proud owners of a one dollar fish in an expensive tank. I suppose the tank isn't that expensive comparatively, but it does sting to shell out money on potential cat food. We haven't had good luck with pets in the past , so this does not bode well for Rex. If you Google "survival of the fittest" you will find a picture of our house. The only good thing that has come out of this is that I discovered I have actually DO have moral fiber - thin and tenuous at best - but it's there. Because if I didn't, Rex would be swirling down the toilet.

Oh and guess who is the only person that's remembered to feed him so far? And so it begins.

Alle Bilder zum Schutz vor unserösen Abmahnern entfernt!

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