The one time ever I wouldn't want to be the one yelling "Bingo!!!"

A few nuggets of stuff you may or may not need to know in order to not give up on life, depending on your level of drunkery:

• The other day, I was busy busy busy getting ready for a catering.  As the day progressed, I noticed that my toe on my left foot was kind of throbbing, but for whatever reason I couldn't be bothered to take 2 seconds and simply tilt my head downward to see what was going on.  Maybe I was too busy picking at things or shoving food on/into my face to pause and be concerned about one of my lesser appendages. Finally around 4:30 I decided to inspect, only to find out that at some point, likely MUCH earlier in the day, I had ripped off my toenail.  Like, 95% gone.  Like, dried blood gone.  I'd show you a picture, but I feel like I've shown you way too many gross pics of my hooves at this point.  On the bright side, my inability to even notice or feel anything at the moment in which said nail was being ripped from my body allows me to cross off another square on my "On your way to being a hobo" bingo card:

• After the aforementioned catering, we had to load everything up into our cars in the dark.  I only had a few things in my car- some pans, an empty cooler, etc... so I figured that I would just leave it all in there until I had a chance to drop it all off at the kitchen sometime later in the week.  The next day, I had to run a few errands in the afternoon.  I plopped into my car which had been sitting in the hot sun all day and was immediately enveloped with a stench that I can best describe as "dead mermaid decomposing in the sun crotch smell."  Turns out, someone threw a covered pan in the back seat that was still pretty full with one of the appetizers that we did- it not only had mustard as a component, but smoked trout as well.  Yummy.  I may never get the smell out, but at least I'll always be reminded of the beauty of mermaids.
• A few pics from the catering here.  The farm we were at was stunning, and now my "living on a farm-lust" has resurfaced, boiling away in my nether regions the way that many women yearn for wiggly, smelly, poopy little humans.  I want to give birth to organic produce, chickens and cows, it seems.  The berries, potatoes and baby chicks shouldn't be too difficult, but I better start doing my kegels in preparation for the heifers.  Ouchy.

Happy Tuesday, my undulating, smelly little cow butts.  Happy Tuesday.