and the horse your guilt-trip rode in on

I had dinner with Elizabeth last week, and she veered into lapsed-Catholic guilt-trip mode. "John. I mean, John! You have never met my kids!"

Hearing me tell the story the next morning, Amy knew exactly what was coming, well before my denouement.

"...and then she said 'John, you have never met my kids.'"

"Oh no. No no no no no no no no no—"

"—so I'm going over there—"

"—oh god no."

"—today."

"Does she have any idea what's about to happen?"

"No. No she does not."

eli toys.JPG

For the record, that's three water cannons, four projectile-firing guns, two Fart Blasters (for shootouts!), an accordion, a drum set, one of those massive floor piano things, a karaoke machine, two marine airhorns (for shootouts!), fireworks, and an Imperial fuckton of glitter.