After 10 years of marriage we finally hit the traditional "I want a pet/I want to eat our pet" impasse.
Unfortunately, this means I will not be able to relate to you the crazy antics of Ticky and Tacky, the chorus line dancing chickens. However, it does mean that YOU can go find some cute little balls of yellow fluff, dress them in rainbow sequined gowns and teach them to peck to the tune of the Do-Re-Mi song from The Sound of Music. But keep your sticky fingers off my chicken names. (I'm giving you an intimidating glare here-just like the one you'd get if you tried to touch my coffee. Seriously. It's scary.) You never know, Jon may become a vegetarian any day now and get over this insane idea that he wants to eat the cutest and most talented chickens EVER and realize that computers are evil and will someday take over the world. He will then chuck it all to hike the Appalachian trail with me from terminus to terminus while performing our favorite show tunes from Glee with Ticky and Tacky in order to earn money to buy gallons of ice cream. We will then consume our massive amounts of Baskin-Robbins Gold Medal Ribbon in one sitting, wrapped in our smelly sleeping bags at the laundry mat, while we watch every stitch of clothing we own tossed against the window of the industrial sized front loading dryers. Dude. I think I just wrote my Christmas list!