HEYYYY YOUUU GUYSSS!

Hey you guys, its been awhile. Just wanted to check in on you all and ensure all parental units in the world haven't taken to killing off their young or selling them to Gypsies. You haven't, right? I surely could not blame you if you did. I get it. I've been there. I've done that. And I rock. And YOU ROCK. I'm talking about the survival part, not the murder part.....to be clear.

FUCK YEAH! WE ROCK!

The positive outlook is that with this whole marijuana explosion, soon our children will probably be playing on playgrounds built of weed, and the water fountains will spurt pot-infused water. and all the little snacky-snacks will have some strain of mind-relaxing pot in them. Children will start listening, they will learn to cook dinner, they will load and unload the dishwasher without calling you a fucking asshat behind your back. They will pick-up (dispose of) their crunchy socks and actually not miss the fucking hamper for once. It will be awe-inspiring. And everyone will love each other. World peace...

Sorry, I just woke up from a great dream. Where was I?

Yeah- summer/kids/crazy/fucking-help-us-all

We are still standing strong in my house. Summer camp, "bored kids", and heat that makes the coldest bitches produce crotch sweat. It's summer ya'll and I'm lovin' it. Drinks for me, drinks for me, drinks for me.

And a drink for you too. And a chill song I just discovered that is kind of the epitome of summer to me. Enjoy.

I'm off to bed. Last night I had a dream that I bought a 70's-Deco Modern house. I hated the kitchen, took a sledgehammer to the back-splash, then bought a horse and made the kitchen half horse-stable, half Food Network worthy professional kitchen. The horse did not like the blender so I let him roam my excessively long hallways that turned into a forest at some point. I also trained a chipmunk to slaughter a chicken named Schnookums. It was weird. So so weird.

I am weird.

Love you all, and thank you for reading this rambling non-nonsensical rubbish full of cuss words, fueled by a ever-exhausted fraggle-esque woman who for some reason cannot stop tying even though she has OCD and just now realized this turned into a run-on sentence and now its bothering her because GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION ARE FUCKING IMPORTANT. USE IT!

Smooches. -Ashe