Then I saw this. Let's just say it was like watching some kind of sick interpretive dance that demonstrated the unraveling of my childhood innocence. (No, that's not dramatic; it's clever.) I'm pretty sure it more or less serves as Kirk's official statement on childhood fantasy: "Gross."
Oh well. I suppose I've been called worse. Good thing I've moved on to more respectable idolatry:
WOOPS! How'd that get in there?! I meant this!
Happy Friday, punks. I'll be spending the weekend teaching my sons to blow snot bubbles, intentionally. Hey, when life gives you mucus, right?!
And don't forget yo' Fahthah this Sunday! (Is it inappropriate to draw my face with hearts next to another man in this post? Maybe. But that's what marriage is for. Makes it harder for him to dump me. Plus, I'm making the husband a super tear-jerker gift. That should negate my inappropriate humor. That, and the snot-bubbles.)