Did y’all ever see that Monty Python sketch about the very fat man eating dinner out? I tried to find it on YouTube with no luck. Anyway, the fella gets incredibly full and tries to refuse an after dinner mint. For some reason, he ends up accpting it, eating it, and then… he exploded.
This is how I feel.
One more bite of sweet potatoes and I am going to die. It won’t be a dramatic drawn out death. It’ll be quick and relatively painless. And I’ll have a smile on my face.
After we ate, Pookie had to go to work, the poor guy. On the upside, he hasn’t had to take a bite of that apple pie yet.
After Pookie left, Pooter and I settled in to watch Flushed Away, courtesy of Netflix. After that, we watched Home Alone. It was the first time he’d ever seen it and we had the best time.
And then I passed out.
And then I came to and had some more sweet potatoes.
Actually, not only didn’t I pass out, I didn’t even have a nap. I decided if Pookie couldn’t have one, neither would I.
I love that man, but next time I’m taking a nap.
So how was your Thanksgiving? Good food? Good company? Anyone get bitch slapped?