Happy Easter! Or, in the red states, Happy Resurrection Day!
If they change the name of the holiday could we be let off the hook and not celebrate it? Could we not have to walk past the protesters with signs with sad faced piggies on them to get a honey baked ham? Could we not just skip those five pounds all together?
Did you survive? Did you really mind when Alpha emailed you to say that her children were dying shredded coconut for making easter basket shaped cupcakes, and had already finished not only dying their easter eggs, but also making their multi-colored jello easter eggs?
When you asked Alpha the next logical question -- how does one make a jello easter egg -- she says to you, forget it. You don't seem like the kind of person who has jello molds. (Beeyotch!) (But she's right.) (You're not.) (You don't own one.) (Is that something to be ashamed of or proud of?) (Why are you still on this?)
Your children dyed easter eggs while your big kids rolled their eyes and the little kid was so Into It she had to destroy everything around her. You ask, do you want me to boil a dozen more eggs? Your betabigkids scream NO!!! while babybeta screams YES!!!
And you realize how boring the easter egg dying must have become when you next walk into the room and see everyone has had their Easter Make Over. Blue eye glitter, red lipstick, ninja harujuku hair.
You helped your nephew stuff his face with drooly jellybeans because you thought it was funny. You ate everyone's candy from every basket from the nastified Snickers eggs to the excellent Sees Scotchmallow eggs. The only proof in the universe that there Must Be A God. Hallelujiah. Scotchmallow. Let us Praise Him.
You now have an Easter Hangover. And by that, you mean, it's hanging over your pants.
So you get up this week and decide to work out. You contemplate putting on your workout pants except for the sausage-tastic effect they have on your butt. So instead you drive down the street to have your jungle brows waxed. When it turns out the friendly neighborhood wax lady isn't in today, you pull over next to the Mystic Spray Tan shop and ask if they take walk ins.
That's right. Spray those jiggly back butts orange. See if it helps.
Roll the montage. As they say in American Idol, You had a bad day...
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