Wednesday, 12 April 2017

I'M OBVIOUSLY GOING TO HAVE MY WORK CUT OUT FOR ME

easter, piggly wiggly, things on piggly wiggly's head,
OH, YOUR FAMILY HAS EASTER EGG HUNTS?  
Well Piggly Wiggly's mom is more of a "Let's put things on the baby's head" kinda hostess. 
(See the interactive image below for more kneeslappin' good times.)

Happy Easter, everyone! Like most lapsed Catholics, I sometimes have to remind myself that this is in fact a deeply religious observance as opposed to just a three-day weekend which, after the week I just had, is as much of a miracle as the fact that Jesus our Saviour rose from the dead to hunt Easter eggs. 

I will be spending the blessed holiday with family at my daughter's home, where I can cuddle my beloved Piggly Wiggly and make sure her mom doesn't get out of hand with the head ornaments. This sort of thing can rapidly escalate from amusing prank to dangerous habit, as I learned when I tried it on the pig dog using a bowl of scalding chowder instead of a wig. The drama! The screeching! The mess! Although the aroma of chowder-dipped swine was oddly delectable and lingered for days afterwards.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pour a martini and bark orders at the moron who's cooking the osso bucco I will bring to my daughter's and tell everyone I made myself. Oh ... and my wigs. I have to sort my wigs. If we're going to be putting things on Piggly Wiggly's head all bloody weekend, the least I can do as her grandmother is make sure they are worthy. 

EDITOR'S NOTE: *samples sauce, kisses fingertips* Magnifique! It's like velvet!
MY NOTE: *tosses empty bottle of Grey Goose in general direction of stovetop* Stop tonguing the osso bucco and come help me find my transvestite hooker wig! It's my favourite. 

EASTER EXTRA: HOVER OVER the pic below for captions.