Day after Easter and there’s no Easter candy to be found at my house. No hollow chocolate bunnies. No Reese’s peanut butter eggs. No jelly beans. No damn peeps. Nothing. Not a damn sugary tasty bit of goodness. Why? Because I was robbed. Somewhere along the way life took over and decided that I was too old for Easter baskets.
That, my friends, is a chocolate covered load of bunny crap.
Next year I want an Easter basket piled high with stuffed animals, and too much candy.
Know what the Easter bunny did bring me on Easter Sunday? A gift that made me repent for all my sins – and I’m an Atheist (shocking, I know). A gift that made me want to bury my head in my hands and cry, or vomit, or vomit and then cry. That’s right, I had a hangover on Christmas. I’d like to blame my brother-in-law for that. No, he didn’t force the red wine down my throat – but it’s his fault there wasn’t something more suitable to my liking at his house.
Note to self: never drink red wine again. Ever.
Nothing like hanging out at mom’s house while trying to get the house to stop spinning and praying to the sweet baby Jebus that you don’t vomit all over the Easter ham in front of your niece and nephew.