The following run lost me twenty followers on Twitter in about twenty minutes.
On the suggestion that I wear the boots:
(Note: This should read Self-Discipline, not Elf-Discipline. If I was disciplining an elf, I'd start by forcing them to carry my rogue boots. Or the kids' presents. Although an elf would be a pretty cool present...)
I brought two bags. Christmas (and my fashion sense) have been saved. (Also, my nephew who I have never met is the cutest and best-behaved one-year old on the planet. If my fallopian tubes weren't filled with asbestos's and hate, he and SlackNiece might make my biological clock skip ahead.) However, I'm currently sitting in a Rodeway Inn with a Chicago Cubs-branded Old Style Tallboy, so I'm not going to be cut of the parental cloth soon.
But if one of those cute kids wants to scrape their future drunken aunt off the dark oak bar at one of her favorite bourbon haunts fifteen years in the future, well, that she could live with.
Don't forget if you're around Glen Ellyn tomorrow night, come see us!
(Note: the folks mentioned above have senses of humor, and were not the droppers in question. They are fab and funny people, who are better human beings than I am. But that goes without saying.)
