A Letter To My Mopey Self

Dear Self,

Life has been tough lately. For whatever reason, you’re sitting around in your cookie pants, watching re-runs of Friends and wondering if things are ever going to get any easier. You’re not getting what you want in the time that you wanted it in, and you keep stumbling over road blocks or speed bumps, and that’s frustrating. I know it’s frustrating. I know that you sometimes sit in the shower, with the water cascading over your shoulders, your hair hanging in your face, and you cry your eyes out because no one can hear you over the sound of the spray. I know that sometimes, you sit in traffic and suddenly feel the overwhelming need to scream, and so you do, never sparing a thought for what the driver in the car next to you must be thinking. I know that sometimes, when the alarm clock sounds in the morning, that your first thought is “I don’t wanna.”

Well, friend, I think what you need is a little perspective. Sure, things are hard right now. It’s probably not going to get any easier in the next week, or month. You probably won’t have that thing you want more than anything else in the world by then. But here is what you DO have:

You have a husband that would move heaven and earth to make you happy. And he has done, on multiple occasions. And now here you are–you and that beautiful man you married almost 11 years ago–sitting on this same island of despair together, holding each other up when you both want to fall over. There are a lot of people in this life that would wish for a love like the one you have. So embrace it. Revel in it. Remember it in the darkest of times when you feel like your dreams will never come true.

You have a family that loves you, and supports you, no matter what. They are unshakable, unwavering, and unquestioning. They will give you advice–some that you’ll use, some that you won’t. They will make you laugh when you thought laughter was impossible. They will hold you up, and give you strength. They will love you, even if you don’t reach your dream. Enjoy every moment that you have with them–they are priceless.

You have friends who are with you in the trenches, the same mud on their faces that’s smeared on yours. They will amaze you in a million little ways, and even more huge ways. They will sit by your side in the blazing heat, selling lamps and rugs and hand-me-down clothing, just so you can add a few bucks to your savings account. They will rally around you when you get news, be it good, bad, or somewhere in the middle. They will send you little cards and messages of support, just so you know that, even though it’s been awhile, they’re still thinking of you every single day. They will shed tears for you, ones that you’ll never know about, and they will feel every divot in the road that you feel, sometimes tenfold (since you tend to remove yourself from heavy feelings as much as you can.) These people are more than just friends–they are your family. And you are SO beyond lucky to have them.

Last, but never least, you have a DREAM. A dream of becoming a parent when biology wouldn’t let you before. A dream of holding a little one, so dear, in your arms and kissing their tiny baby cheeks, and knowing that they are yours. Of little giggles, and sleepless nights, and future Mother’s Days filled with flowers and handmade cards and slightly-chewy pancakes served in bed. Never let go of that dream, self. It is pure, and shiny, and filled with so much joy that no matter how many times you fall on your face in pursuit of that dream, it will, without doubt, be totally worth it.

So I’m just going to leave this letter here. That way, you can find it when you need it. Let it serve as a reminder as to why you should never even dare to give up hope. How dare you give up hope, when you have so many people on your side, fighting the same fight, wishing the same wish, and hoping the same hope that you do?

So get up. Knock the dirt off, sister. Put on some real clothes.  And get back to your life. You’ve got work to do.

Sincerely,

Abby

rainbows

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

A Dream Within A Dream

Laughter and quiet conversation surrounds us. I straighten your blue-and-white gingham dress and pass you to my closest neighbor, all smiles, with my heart in my throat. Your tiny hands curl into fists, your yellow floral headband slightly askew, as kisses are planted on your adorably bald head.

Sunlight pours into the room from behind us, filling the room with more joy than we can handle. A box of tissues makes its way around the room, but these are happy tears we cry, little one. Tears we shed because you are finally here, and we waited so long, and we are so blessed.

My mother walks into the room, her eyes red, her cheeks pink, but with a big, beautiful smile on her face. My father’s bold chuckle rebounds from the kitchen, where I know he’s taken charge of refreshments for the rest of our guests. A small child, all blonde hair and blue eyes, puppy dog tails and muddy puddles, sits near my feet, running a matchbox car up and down my leg. The sounds of a camera shutter click from across the room, with only you in the frame, my little love. My heart.

My arms already itch to hold you again, though you’ve only been with someone else for less than a minute. I watch you like a hawk, studying your body language, your face, the shape of your delicious little thighs and pointed toes. A familiar thought, one I’ve had before: “She’ll be a dancer someday.”

I see your face turning red, your eyes squinting in preparation for one of your spine-tingling wails, before anyone else even realizes it’s coming. With that first cry, I start to reach for you. But your Daddy is there before I can even stand up. He cuddles you close, giving you his thumb to cling to, and he coos at you in a soft voice, calming your sobbing to only a slight whimper. The love on his face, in his eyes, for you leaves me feeling a little weak. I love him more fiercely in that moment than ever before.

When you begin to nuzzle at his chest, he looks up at me with a knowing smile. “I don’t think I have what she wants, Mama,” he says and proudly hands you over to me. I kiss your cheeks and breathe you in, and we wave bye bye to our loved ones as we make our way back to the privacy of the bedroom.

It’s darker in here, the shades pulled tight, but a lone sunbeam sneaks through, leaving a small pool of light on the patchwork quilt. I close the door behind me–but not so tight that a certain orange cat can’t push his way in. He settles at the foot of the bed, eyes on us, as I settle back against the pillows and lift my shirt. This is still brand new for us, little one, and Mama’s still learning.

You nuzzle and search, then latch on, and the pulling sensation still startles me. You close your eyes, shuttering the bright green from me, your long eyelashes brushing your rounded cheeks. The hand I’d been holding curls up in a fist, and you lay it against my skin, your body relaxing as you feed. I run my hand over your back in lazy circles, and we both drift for a moment. The muffled sounds of laughter come from the other room, and I am washed over with a love so deep, I could drown.

The brash sound of my alarm clock steals me away from you. My arms still ache from the weight of you as I turn it off and climb from my bed. You aren’t here, yet. But you will be. I believe that to the very center of my soul. My cheeks are dry today, little one, though I yearn for you so.

I only wish I’d dreamt your name.

 

pooh

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Drunken Pinterest, Part 3: The One With The Urinal

What better way to spend a rainy Saturday afternoon than by perusing the oddities available on our favorite time-suck website, Pinterest? It didn’t take me long (approximately 19 minutes) to come up with six more strange things that the world wide web has to offer. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. (Don’t judge me. Almost twenty minutes is a long time to peruse!)

Public Urinal Is VERY Public

Urinal

Sure, sure….I’m a woman. I couldn’t possibly understand the etiquette involved in peeing standing up in plain view of a room full of strangers. We ladies are sophisticated and have doors on our stalls.

Usually.

But the thing that stands out most to me about this strange public toilet (other than how weird it is that someone took a picture of this gentleman relieving his bladder) is that there isn’t a whole lot of room to see what you’re doing there. Too much room for splatter. Am I right?

But what do I know about public urinal-ation?

Not Much, Until Now

Urinal AssistantMove over, John Q. Public. Women now possess the power to urinate standing up.

Even so, I still wouldn’t use one of those outdoor public toilets.

Somebody Needs a Hug

Hug Jacket

Two things. One: I just want to actually hug this model, because he got to tell his friends and family that he was finally getting his big break, and then THIS happened to him. And Two: I want mine in blue so I can tell people I’m being hugged by the Blue Man Group, all at the same time.

Feet Shoes…What?

Feet Shoes

I can’t look away. It’s like the strangest optical illusion I’ve ever seen. Seriously. Forget about the fact that you would always be stuck with the same nail polish color, or that your skin tone would have to be an exact match. Just close your eyes, then open them again real quick and stare at this picture. Try NOT to say the following words: “What the #*$$ am I looking at????”

Did you succeed? Me either.

In Honor Of National Name Yourself Day

Name

Maaaaaaaan. He TOTES stole my name idea. Kudos, Beezow. Kudos.

And finally….WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????????

Ice Cream Wasters

Look. I support art in all of its many varied forms. I’m a writer; I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t support people’s right to create.

But dude. DUDE. There are so many other mediums out there to paint with, so I have to ask that very long, punctuated question again, on behalf of every PMSing woman on the planet. WHY would you waste Ben and Jerry’s ice cream to paint a portrait of Steve Buscemi?

Ya dirty ice cream wasters.

If you’re curious to see what other crazy pins I’ve found during my search for the world’s strangest stuff, feel free to peruse my “I’m Sorry…What?” board on Pinterest! And if you find one you’d like featured in next month’s rendition of “Go Home, Pinterest, You’re Drunk,” send it on over to me at ThatGabbyAbby. Together, we can force Pinterest into rehab—but why would we? The drunk pins are SO FUNNY!

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Conversations With My Husband: Romance

I was sitting at my computer yesterday, diligently doing research on new and exciting fundraising ideas, when my husband came in from mowing the lawn. The scent of freshly cut grass and sunshine and spring came in with him, and I smiled as he took off his headphones and kicked off his shoes.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” he said, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Just as the door closed behind him, I heard him say, “I always feel so manly after the first mow of the season. Man. Arrrr.”

Brian on another "manly" day.

Brian on another “manly” day.

A few minutes later, he emerged, clean and fresh as a daisy. I hear him rummaging around in the bedroom, drawers opening and closing, and a momentary conversation with one of the cats. As I’m typing away at my keyboard, I suddenly felt his hands on my shoulders, his fingers kneading away some of the ever-present tension residing there.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, brushing a hand over my hair.

“Just some quick research,” I mumbled, focused on navigating my mouse.

“I have plans for us tonight,” he said quietly. His hand brushed over my hair. Playfully. Seductively.

“Oh?” I say, becoming distracted by my husband’s roving hands.

“Yeah.” He walked around to the side of my chair and pushed my hair away from my neck. “As soon as you’re done with work, and you’re home from the gym, we’re gonna have some fun.” He bends down and kisses my neck, just below my ear, in that spot I like best. Lingering.

And even after all this time, my heart skips a beat.

“Fun, huh?” I say, leaning into him. “So…whatcha got planned, hot shot?”

“I’m gonna kick your ass at Mario Party,” he whispers. And then he retreats to his favorite video gaming spot on the couch.

Romance sm

Romance. We’ve got it in spades.

(We did play Mario Party last night. And he won. Twice.)

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Nothin’ To See Here (Except a Dance Party)

So I was messing around on my blog’s Facebook page yesterday, and I decided that, if I was ever going to maintain my internet celebrity status, I needed to get everybody on my friends’ list on board. So I sent out a huge wave of invites, hoping to pick up a few stragglers along the way.

I got twenty new page likes in a little less than two hours.

SHOCKING!

So I posted the following on my feed, hoping to inspire more folks to like and share the page:

FB page 1

And it worked. I’m in awe of social media. I was up to 155 likes this morning–bringing my total of new likes to a whopping 34!!

I always keep my word, and so, as promised—for fans new and old alike, I give to you, an AbbyGabs jig.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

How Abby Became Internet Famous (Thanks To That Drunk Guy On ‘Jail’ Who Turned Out To Be Pseudo-Famous)

I’ve written about a lot of things here on Abby Gabs over the years. I’ve told you funny stories about my husband, Photoshopped silly pictures of myself doing silly things, and illustrated moments in my life that have been deemed blog-worthy. I’ve discussed current events, shared with you my hopes and dreams, and written about everything from Donnie Wahlberg to depression. I’ve even tackled emotional subjects like cancer, adoption, weight loss, and infertility.

So naturally, you would HAVE to expect that out of all the many blogs I’ve posted, there must be at least one that has garnered enough attention to warrant calling myself “internet famous.”

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Well, you’d be right, readers. But never in a million years would I have guessed that the Gabs most likely to be clicked on would be one I wrote in the first year of publication about an unknown actor named Evan, and his televised night in the drunk tank on a reality show.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the most read post in Abby Gabs history, “What Happens When You Cross Cough Medicine with Bad TV?”

It’s all about our discovery of a dude named Evan Lockwood, who apparently appeared in famous movies like “Ramblin’ Rose” and “Fried Green Tomatoes.” But he’s more famous for his drunken speeches on the Spike reality show, “Jail.” This post includes a half-assed “video blog” of me (in my jammies and wearing no makeup) doing my best impersonation of Evan’s ramblin’ “Ramblin’ Rose” speech.

For your amusement:


I only hate myself a little bit for sharing this terrible video again. And all in the name of internet fame.

Anyway, I always know when Spike has aired a rerun of this particular episode, because my little blog get a flurry of activity, and I get a slew of new comments on this post. Why?

Because if you see the episode, the first thing you do (or at least the first thing I did) was turn to Google to see if this guy’s story has any validity. And here’s what pops up:

Lockwood 1

First and foremost, I’d like to drag your attention to the fact that Mr. Lockwood does, in fact, has his very own IMDB page…which lists him as an actor in “Ramblin’ Rose,” “Fried Green Tomatoes,” and, hilariously, “Jail.”

Secondly, let the record reflect that Mr. Lockwood is also active on social media powerhouses, Twitter AND Facebook.

But the most important lesson here, friends, is that when the American public get their first taste of Evan Lockwood on Jail, the SECOND thing that pops up in their curiosity-ridden Google search is my little blog.

BOOM.

 

This phenomenon explains the awesomesauce of comments I’ve received on this post, including my all-time favorite:

Capture 1

Thanks, Seifer! Not only do you have a seriously awesome name, but your suggestion that I become a famous movie actor will be subsequently stewed over, and potentially acted upon.

Ha. Acted upon.

See what I did there?

And so, in the event that one day you see little ol’ me traipsing down a red carpet, I have Evan Lockwood, the producer of “Jail,: and Seifer from Cleveland to thank.

(Thanks, guys, in case I forget to thank you in my Oscar acceptance speech.)

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Slainte!

Today is St. Patrick’s Day (in case you were wondering why people are walking around in green from head to toe and shouting Gaelic phrases at you while drinking Guinness from their coffee mug.)

There are lots of reasons I love St. Patrick’s Day (the coffee mug of Guinness is only one of them.) While I know my family is of Irish decent, I’m probably only 1/67th% Irish. But that doesn’t keep me from celebrating our heritage, and with gusto. Here are a few of my favorite things about St. Patrick’s Day.

The Food
Look, guys, I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. I’m Irish, and I love potatoes. I think it might be written in the law somewhere that Irish people have to love spuds. Even though I’ve been eating healthy for the past year, we still have potatoes around here on the regular. (There are some things you just make room for in your healthy eating plan. Like potatoes. And chocolate ice cream.) We also visit our favorite local pub on an alarmingly frequent basis. (They know us by name. And order, because we always get the same thing.)

There’s something about Irish food…the kind you make on St. Patrick’s Day…that just takes “comfort food” to the next level. Shepherd’s Pie, Corned Beef and CabbageIt just doesn’t get any better than that.

But…it sort of does. Our family’s most favorite Irish recipe is Whiskey-Braised Pork Shoulder with Colcannon.

Whiskey braised pork
<Paused for drool clean-up.>

It’s just…I mean…look at that…I can’t even.

Just trust me. Read the recipe. Buy the ingredients. Cook this meal. And thank me later.

The Sentiment
I always wondered where my penchant for sage advice came from–both the giving and the receiving. I’m guessing it must be my Irish blood, because the blessings and phrases and quotes that come out of Ireland are some of my favorites.

“Lose an hour in the morning, and you’ll be looking for it all day.”

“You’ll never plow a field by turning it over in your mind.”

“You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.”

(It’s imperative that, when reading these quotes, you drop all the g’s, and put on your thickest Irish brogue. Trust me, it just works.)

These phrases don’t necessarily have to do with the celebration of St. Paddy’s, but they tend to come out of the woodwork around this time of year. There’s nothing better than a good turn of phrase to get my juices flowing. And I also happen to love some of the Irish blessings that show up on Facebook on March 17. My favorite?

Irish wish

Tis the wish I wish for you, my friend.

The Parties
There are lots of other holidays that have parties that try to rival St. Patrick’s Day—Cinco de Mayo, Independence Day, Christmas, my birthday. They just don’t hold a candle to the parades, the dancing, and the merriment that we Irish partake of…well, pretty much year round, but especially on St. Patrick’s Day. Savannah, Charleston, Boston, NYC…you don’t have to look very hard to find a rowdy group of Irishmen (and women!) ready to don their favorite green gear and spend the day searching for the luck of their people.

Plus, you know…there’s the Guinness.

 

st patty's day

What else do you need to officially claim St. Patrick’s Day to be the most fun holiday, ever?

A half-assed Photoshopped picture of me as a dancing leprechaun?

Fine.

Abby leprechaun

There. I win. St. Patrick’s Day RULES.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

The Downside of Dreaming

It’s fun to dream. Planning a future you can’t quite see yet, that’s still fuzzy around the edges; filling in the shadowy bits that aren’t quite in focus–everybody does it. Maybe you’re imagining what your next job might look like, or what a move to the city might feel like, or even where your next vacation might take you. Either way, we all spend time dreaming about, planning for, and being excited by that upcoming phase in life.

For us, the dreams have been pretty specific for several years. Baby, house, new careers. That’s been my mantra since probably somewhere around 2005.

Dreams 1

My husband and I have shared these dreams for years, though my version is colored in a little differently than his. (He sees wood cabinets and tile floors; I see white cabinets and hard wood floors.) But we still pull out that imaginary blue print from time to time, talk about our likes and dislikes, our wishlists and our deal breakers, and we continue to color in the dreams for our future together.

As time passes, and those dreams have yet to become a reality, dreaming takes on a different hue. There’s more blue there than before, and not because we’re selecting paint colors for Brian’s man cave. I find that, after an afternoon of house-shopping or adoption talk, my mood swings from delighted to deflated. It feels like we’ve been waiting on these things to happen forever–and in many ways, we have.

Being patient, especially when it comes to things you ache for, is really hard.

Sometimes, the “we don’t have a baby” or “we can’t afford a house just yet” blues can stick around for awhile for me. Despite knowing that I already have a pretty amazing life–husband, family, friends, cats, fun–it can still be hard to sit in ‘today’ when what I really want is to be sitting in a shiny, new ‘tomorrow.’

But sometimes, all it takes to jar me back to my awesome reality is a bit of wisdom from my husband.

Brian

(Ok, so he might not have been so poetic about it, but that was the gist.)

I may not have a big house in the woods, with a little nook set aside for me to write the next great American novel. I might not have an agent, or a publisher, or a novel on the shelf at the bookstore bearing my name. I might not have an adorable, precocious toddler demanding every bit of my free time and attention and adoration.

But the word that’s missing?

Yet.

Those things will come, in time. And for now, I will revel in the things I do have, and try to keep the blue out of my blueprint of dreams.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Guess What, Guys? Pinterest Is STILL Drunk

I wrote a post last month called “Go Home, Pinterest. You’re Drunk.” You guys sort of loved it. In fact, it got more traffic, comments, and shares than any blog I’ve written in the last 6 months. So, I thought it would be a kick in the pants to turn it into a serial.

You’re welcome, readers.

And so, without further ado, here are some more of my favorite pins from the world weird website, Pinterest.

The Bath Poof Dress

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I’ll be the first one to admit to you that I know diddly squat when it comes to fashion. Trends always skip me by, I’m always the last to know that I can’t wear black shoes with a navy blue dress, and my nails look like they should belong to a five-year-old nail biter. However, I’m pretty certain about one thing: I don’t strive to look like a giant bath poof when I go to a cocktail party.

The funniest part of this pin? It’s not a Halloween costume tutorial.

The Ostrich Pillow

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First of all, sleeping in public places is just weird. People can steal your purse, or draw on your face with a sharpie, or stick things in your ear. I suppose this product would keep them from accomplishing two of those three things, but it also accomplishes making you look like a complete weirdo who sleeps in public with a giant pillow on your head. Weirdo.

Crocheted Short Shorts….For Men

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Again, I’m no fashion-guru. For all I know, lemon-yellow is the 2015 color of the year. But I’m pretty sure that the short shorts look for men went out of fashion sometime in the early 1990s. Maybe the next time you want to crochet a gift for your man, you should take a page from my last Pinterest post and make him THIS instead.

I’m Sorry—Did you say Watermelon JERKY?

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I have one word for you, readers. Ew.

The Privacy Dome

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Love your hubby, but hate the attention you get when you suck face in public? Well, this is the product for you! Just unfold the purse-looking apparatus, plop it down over your heads, and enjoy that kiss fest! No one will EVER KNOW what you’re doing under there! Perfect for weddings, the post office, cocktail parties, holidays, and even an afternoon stroll through Target. Now you can enjoy that makeout sesh just as if you were in the privacy of your own home. (Also comes in black.)

There is nothing left on the internet that can top that last one, kiddies. Trust me, I’ve looked. If you’d like to see more weird things, visit my Pinterest board titled “I’m Sorry…WHAT?” And if you stumble across a hilarious pin yourself that you’d like to see featured here on AbbyGabs, send it to me at ThatGabbyAbby. Let’s find Pinterest’s weirdest pins together, readers! Until next time…happy pinning.

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website

Do You Have A Zombie Apocalypse Team?

You guys watch “The Walking Dead,” right? I mean, everyone does. (And if you don’t, you should start now.)

I have a group of friends who are more than enthusiastic about this show. Dinner parties with them often involve strategic meetings on how we will handle the apocalypse when it happens, and don’t be surprised when I tell you that we do, in fact, have a very specific plan for when the dead start walking. Each of us has a job to do, and each of us bring a different dynamic to the group. Brian, as a nurse, is our health care expert. Frank is undoubtedly the “moral compass” of the group, and has also taken on the mantle of team historian. His wife, Linda, is in charge of sniffing out decent bottles of wine to go with our food, prepared by yours truly. Our other pal, Lynda, who originally started our Zombie Apocalypse Team, is cunning and smart–a natural born leader. Her husband, Jimmy, is our “Beth.”

Except our campfire songs will be decidedly more rock-n-roll, since Jimmy is a drummer. Probably lots of Foo Fighters, with some Led Zeppelin thrown in for good measure.

Anywho, you get the drift. Amongst our friends, our game plan is as follows: when the infrastructure fails, and zombies start chasing after us for our very tasty brains, the entire crew will be coming to our house first.

Not because it’s safest or centrally located. Not because it’s zombie proof. But because it’s closest to Google.

Now, I don’t know if other Google facilities are as apocalypse-aware as ours. I don’t know if it’s part of their game plan, or if it’s just a lucky break in design. But this place is impenetrable–high fence with barbed wire, security locked gate, surrounded by hills and trees for cover. In fact, I haven’t the foggiest what the actual facility looks like because they have successfully blocked it from public view. But the one thing that solidified our plan most recently was Google’s addition of its very own water tower.

I’ve had dreams about one of our own climbing carefully to the top, a bag of spray paint on their back, to notify other survivors that we have found a safe haven.

Sanctuary

Once we’ve set up camp at Google Headquarters–I’m imagining there will be some walkers we’ll have to dispatch, probably some fence we’ll have to repair and some cleaning up to do–we can settle in to a life of survival, but in the utmost comfort that an apocalypse survivor can expect. I mean, we’ve all heard how great of a place Google is to work for, so I’m expecting cushy offices from which we can appropriate furniture, access to a state-of-the-art gym, a huge cafeteria we can make use of for food storage and prep, and maybe even a pool, if we’re lucky. We’ll be far enough out of the city center to avoid most giant herds of walkers, but close enough to facilities like Walmart, grocery stores, and pharmacies for supplies.

We would be gracious hosts, but reign with an iron fist. There would be Google Jail for those who acted inappropriately (or for any who stole from our wine stores.) We would set up a kind little community with gardens (for flowers AND vegetables), activities (like mini-marathons and creativity contests, in honor of our host site), and a workable government (Lynda for President!).

It would be a sustainable colony, at least for awhile. All in all, I think it’s a pretty solid plan. And if you’re interested in joining, you’ll have to let us know. We have some questions for you.

For the original meme, which only makes this one funnier, click HERE.

For the original meme, which only makes this one funnier, click HERE.

 

This post is dedicated to my Dinner Club friends–those we affectionately know as The Apocalypse Team.

dinner club

 

Written by Abby Chamberlain - Visit Website