Don Welches Is Going to Put a Cap In My Ass

My darling but oh so deluded husband did a bad bad thing.

He bought juice bars.

Has he met me? Does he not know about my popsicle addiction? Is he trying to turn me into a psychotic shell of the fabulous wife he once had?

I mean juice bars are ok, I mean they are perfectly fine for what they are. Frozen yogurt is lovely also, but it is not ice cream and juice bars are not popsicles and WHY IS HE DOING THIS TO ME?!?!?!?!

I mean, I still have a couple of popsicles left, thank GOD, but there is a bag of eighteen juice bars in that freezer. Juice bars that have to be reckoned with. Juice bars that have connections with the fucking mob and they are going to bust my knee caps if I do not appreciate them properly. But I cannot appreciate juice bars because I do not want them, I want popsicles. Why must you put me into bed with Don Welches?

Possibly. I might be overreacting.

But I do not think so.