I don’t like heights. I don’t like bridges. Driving over a high bridge? I don’t like that.

Just so you know.

Had planned to go to Boring Starbucks today, but discovered upon arrival that something in the shopping center had caught fire and all the trucks were seriously messing with our mojo and clearly this was a sign that God wanted us to go to the prettier Starbucks a few miles south with way more atmosphere. Obviously.

It was such a pretty day that we sat outside, which afforded us a lovely view of old people who kept removing items of clothing (with the woman it was her pants, and the guy it was his shirt- no, I’m not making this up.) and St. Monica’s, which was way prettier than the crazy old naked bikers. I’m just saying.

It was so pretty that Colleen wanted to go creep on it. (In a long digression, we discovered that were she to be gang-raped walking to Mass, she would be canonized and she would become known as St. Colleen the Creeper, and the picture on her holy card would be the one of her creeping on historic Cedarburg. I look forward to the made-for-TV movie.) I don’t remember much about the inside, because I was only dragged there for super-conservative confession with the Opus Dei priests (Colleen: Wait. They’re real? I thought you were being sarcastic!) who wanted me to kneel and I’m sorry, I’m a baby of the nineties, I don’t kneel in confession, just absolve me and leave me alone!, and that was emotionally scarring enough to block out any and all aesthetic recollections.

Finally, it was decided that we would go to Peg Bradley, tell them that I was getting married, and that Colleen and Keelin were my bridesmaids because I apparently look “mature” enough that this would totally work. Alas, they were closing. *tear*

When I got home, Bright Young Things had arrived in the mail. I am now watching it. Aside from the horrendous porn mustache marring David Tennant’s lovely face, it was a good day.


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