Sugar is my crack

It's been a hellavu of a week! I apologize to all of those with sensitive dispositions that might have come close to getting a case of the vapors over that opening sentence, but I speak the truth. And the truth is ... well, you remember that phrase about shoving a camel through an eye of needle or some such nonsense? Well, I'm the camel in this scenario, and there is a needle out there some where with the remnants of my hide covering its tiny eye!

After three meetings and a day full of CHILDREN, I was ready to come home and eat anything and everything, but that sort of commitment requires a certain amount of food preparation. Quite frankly, I didn't have that sort of spizzerinkum. In fact, I have NO MORE spizzerinkum. NONE. ZERO. ZILCH.

So, it was day #3 for me with some sort of grilled sandwich on the stove. I texted Elly the menu because that girl probably couldn't live one day with out getting a text from me on some ridiculous sound bite about the minutiae of my life. I mean, I'm sure she lives for those photos of the cat doing something wildly funny. Right? Cuz I mean, who wouldn't?

I've created a new game, by the way. It's called You know you're a Crazy Cat Lady When ... like, you know you're a Crazy Cat Lady when you text your friends and family photos of your cat in the sink or hanging over a toilet tank or something.

Elly was quick to respond that she and Princess were eating a Triple Chocolate Meltdown at Applebees. Well, my mouth began watering at the mere mention of chocolate, and as I looked down at my fancy post-work attire -- a pair of red plaid men's long-legged jammie pants; a stretched-out white t-shirt; a long, ugly, khaki-colored hooded sweater and hot pink flip-flops -- I wondered at the possibilities of actually meeting people that I knew at the local Dollar General, where I knew I could score some sugary crap on the cheap. And I mentioned to Elly that I thought I could actually consider straight-lining Conversation Hearts, if I had them in my house.

But then I thought that perhaps that was the incorrect use of that particular drug terminology, which made me begin to wonder what in the world would be the appropriate use of the drug term.

So, what does any intelligent, highly-educated writer/teacher do? Why she goes to Google! Of course, that was before she called the Crack Ho ... Tabby the Crack Ho, who is employed by our great Commonwealth of Kentucky, and who was recently dubbed the Crack Ho by one of our fine citizens of the aforementioned Commonwealth ... all because she was trying to do her job, which is to say, she was attempting to answer a question about back property taxes owed.

I mean, don't you think a Crack Ho would know if it was straight-lining or something different? Except, she didn't. She was forced to call another friend, who does have a bit of experience -- from waaaaay in her past -- in the world of, shall we say, non-prescription, but not over-the-counter drugs, and just so happened was in a major retail box store looking at vacuums. Only the friend couldn't think of the correct term either, even after she asked a COMPLETE AND TOTAL STRANGER that happened to be passing if she knew if it was straight-lining or not.

Turns out, there is, in fact, a government site out there on the web to get the needed slang drug terminology -- which meant that we didn't have to try to get a hold of any of the police officers that we knew to try to help us out with the street slang. As it just so happens straight-lining is the incorrect use of the slang. The term I was looking for was actually hard-lining. Apparently, these are two COMPLETELY different worlds, semantically speaking.

So, anyway, I could totally hard-line some Conversation Hearts if I actually had some here at the house.

But I don't.

Instead, I smeared peanut butter and Lite Chocolate Syrup over apples and pretended they were cream-filled donuts. Too bad that healthy syrup tastes like feet.