Ponis for sale

The other night Jeannie and I were sitting around (which is what we do), and I was on the internet (which is what I sometimes do), and she was probably lounged on me in some way (which is what she does), and she told me to buy her a pony. So I was being all funny and I got on Google and typed in "Baltimore Ponies for Sale," except I messed up and typed in "Baltimore Ponis for sale."

This short story doesn't do the whole situation justice, but it was pretty awesome.

Because 'ponis' is kind of like 'penis.'

Anyway.

Hey! Last night we went to this big sale of second-hand baby stuff, and it was a little crazy because you had to have a ticket to get in, and you had to be a pregnant lady to get a ticket (or the guest of a pregnant lady), so it was basically a big grocery store-sized place with a couple of hundred pregnant ladies and their moms, and a few tortured/amused looking guys, in a kind of Black Friday-esque feeding frenzy. It was not our type of scene. Nevertheless, we got some good deals on some newborn clothes (which are, admittedly, cute as hell) and other basic stuff. We waited in line for literally 1 hour to check out. The worst part was that we both had to hold our farts while we were in line because we didn't want to be rude.

Tonight we have nothing planned so we will probably watch Downton Abbey. Or, as the customers as work like to call it, Downtown Abbey. Which, in my head, would star Jackée.