Love is shouting "COMMERCIAL!" during the Superbowl when I'm across the house so I don't miss them. Lotsa poop meds and jeeps, from what I remember from my wine-out-of-a-plastic-Avengers-cup-like-a-mom high. 

Love is also having dinner ready when he gets home, like a thoughtful, domestic woman.


Love is also getting our shit together with our fitness (she says after talking about having chili cheese dogs for dinner). The Bee Bet™ sort of petered out when we discovered our HOA wouldn't allow bees even if he won (OOPS OH WELL NO BIG DEAL SORRY BYE (I paid them off)). Plus we were moving and shit was real and you know how stress adds pounds to dat ass. So we're both fatties and we both started getting hardcore about gym lyfe again, him in our swoleroom and me running and at my work gym. My compression capris and sassy gym shirts are a lil squeezy, y'all. I ain't about that.

Unrelated, I really wish I carried hot sauce in my bag (swag). But I don't and once again I'm not as cool as YoncĂ©.


  1. Reads statement about Bee Bet and the HOA and then dies! You won and you didn't even need to try! Love it!!


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