constance | But I was a little disappointed she wasn't nine and a half months pregnant.

At the grocery today, my path kept crisscrossing another family's: a mother, two teenage daughters, a girl of about ten, and a mullet-sporting (-spouting?) child of indeterminate sex, all arguing or otherwise haranguing each other in a way I might've found much more disturbing if the mother hadn't sounded exactly, but exactly, like Joy from "My Name Is Earl." As it was, every time I passed them on my way down an aisle, I had to fight a completely inappropriate urge to giggle. Inappropriate because (as I have learned the hard way) you don't laugh at arguing people, and also because I have no doubt that even though the mother was half my size, she could probably have taken me with one hand duct-taped to the top of her head. No one with a voice like that is helpless, I tell you.

How awesome is living in the south? More awesome than I could ever manage to express in one lonely lj entry.