Fire Up

Yesterday while hanging out on the bathroom floor feeling nauseous, A brought in a Fed Ex envelope addressed to GJ's hubby. Of course GJ opened it because that is how we roll in this house. Strangely GJ's hubby never opens her mail. Huh. Anyway...inside in all of their glory were two Phish tickets. November 18th at Cobo in the D. What? Once again GJ did not get the memo that there was a concert coming up. It took a lot of restraint to not arrive at the hubby's office in flannel pajamas and a sideways pony tail with two kids who looked like white trash and rip him a new asshole, but GJ was able to keep it together. She merely picked up the phone and left him a message that announced she felt like shit and by the way THOSE FUCKING CONCERT TICKETS HAD BETTER NOT BE YOURS. Well guess what? No...keep guessing. They are the hubby's concert tickets. He TOTALLY didn't know he would get them. IT WAS A LOTTERY. He totally forgot about them. He went into the lottery like a MONTH ago. It was sooooooooo long ago that he forgot. After GJ's laser beam eyes had turned him into a pile of mush he stated he was sorry. The weekend of C's shower is here and B is sick and GJ is sick and BJ is sick and GJ thinks it's going to be super fun.