Holy Mackerel

And then I feel sorry for the poor poodle, and take his cone off. And this is why we probably shouldn't have a dog.

My husband gets Shopper of the Year Award, which looks something like this:  You might be asking yourself, 'Why? Why does HE get the Shopper of the Year Award? What makes HIM so damn special?' OK. You asked... As usual, click on the picture to make it bigger. I really need to work on fixing this problem... Yeah. That's why.

This is what I've been doing these past few weeks: All.Day.Long. Every day. And then one day just recently, this happened: I guess you could say it was a sort of chemically induced nervous breakdown. But based on entirely realistic expectations, meaning I knew deep down inside there was no way in hell I was going to pass this chemistry course unless maybe some magic pink unicorns came prancing by and sprinkled magic brain dust on me at just the right moment. But I knew THAT wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Magic pink unicorns are all busy right now trying to save Mel Gibson. And then, it happened. My knight in shining armour, my saving grace. My husband came to my rescue. I almost mauled him (in a good way) when he asked me if I'd want some help with the mathematical calculations and all the other crap that I couldn't care less about but need desperately to know in order to pass this course, and NOW! So, Mr. Handsome, who is extremely smart in man...