Saturday i conned my loving CJ into going to register with me at babies-r-us. i didn't even have to beg, which i was mildly pleased about.
after we left the house we decided to go to the babies-r-us in concord, and lets just say we picked the wrong day to go to that one. the coca cola 600 nascar race was going on, and if you now CJ and i, we are not fans of racing and into dale jr, and whoever else it is "cool" to be into in any way whatsoever. there were rednecks everywhere, i mean EVERYWHERE. riding in the back of pickup trucks [stupid], at cracker barrel while i was trying to eat my chicken and dumplings [yum], in the mall buying nascar paraphernalia and even a few in the back of cop cars which excited me for some strange reason.
i have a quick question for any nascar fans reading this, why in the world would someone get a nascar TATTOO? seriously, i bet all of those nascar lot lizards that got dale jrs #8 tattooed on their ankle years ago had to go back to get another #8 to correspond with his new #88 sponsor. i secretly wish that he would have changed his number to something completely different and that, my friends, would have been hilarious in itself.
anyways, i am happy to report that after two and a half hours in babies-r-us, we are registered. the task itself was a little more stressful than i had imagined. is it really necessary to have a wall of 32473230 different types of pacifiers? just sayin.
Giving Up Flour and Eating Fried Bread by Ree
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