I must confess, blogoholics, that I have been holding out on you. I have another installment in the series I refer to inside my addled noggin as: Cus Wants to Kill Me.
I am unable to give it the proper attention it deserves tonight. And also unable to slather it with the right amount of tender loving care on Wednesday night. That's SURVIVOR night, people! And The Pony has his Smartypants practice. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to put it together by Thursday night.
You know you want it. I shall not disappoint. I've been keeping a log. Not a log that you might find under our front porch as of Sunday morning, a log from the creek bank most likely full of termites eager to jump from log to wraparound wooden porch to cedar mansion. Nor a log like Carrie Mae spoke of in The House Bunny. No. I've been keeping a written record of the latest atrocities Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has suffered at the raw-knuckled hands of Cus. With pictures!
So check back later in the week. You're in for a treat.
Unless something happens to me between now and then, like a mysterious workplace accident...