RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: May 2012

Birthdays, Bikes and Bruises

I have been trying to slow down a little bit and enjoy my mornings with Sam. He has afternoon preschool so we have mornings together, which are often spent with visits to the dry cleaners, Target, and the grocery store.

I have been attempting to spend some more quality time with him and skip the trip to Target, as in a few short weeks he will graduate from preschool.

The start of kindergarten is essentially the beginning of a long road that takes him further and further away from me…..GULP.

There have been many times that I have wished for the speedy arrival of the day that both of my children are in some sort of full-day institution under the guidance of qualified professionals.

Let’s face it, I am many things but “qualified” is not one of them.  Additionally, since the time from when I drop off Sam at preschool until the time that I have to go back and pick him up is approximately 15 minutes, I look forward to having an entire day to myself!  This is has been 7 years coming, I deserve it!

I long for the day when I can go to the gym AND the store AND take a shower!!!  Now I have to make a choice.  If I exercise, I only have time to do one other thing – and showering doesn’t always fit into the equation.  There have many times that I have shown up sweaty and hideous, straight from a work-out to pick up Sam at preschool.

I actually started running a couple of years ago – when my older son started doing it.  This is a torturous activity but only requires sneakers and 30 minutes! This has been a great time-saver when I don’t have time to travel to the gym and participate in an hour-long class.

It will be quite luxurious to have 8 hour fall days to myself to do everything I want to do!!

Right? Wait, maybe not.  Maybe it will be devastating to have Sam gone.  Now that this time that I have longed for, is on the horizon, I am having second thoughts. I am feeling a little nostalgic and a panic-stricken.

Did I enjoy any of my time home with my kids or did I just yell at them since they were born and wish that they were in college?

I have been making a greater effort to appreciate my time with Sam.

This week was very special because he turned 5! I don’t know how my little tiny baby turned 5 so quickly…..but I made a great effort to make sure it was perfect.  This perfection entailed lots of emphasis on LEGO NINJAGO – his current obsession.  Apparently, LEGO isn’t too big into merchandising – so I had to really be creative with this theme.

I got these labels from my friend Nancy at “Sugar Coated Designs” – and I just had to get candy and fill them!!

I made these cups….(with help)

The really fancy part of the festivities was the cake.  A friend made this cake as a surprise for Sam……

Every single piece of this cake is made out of sugar…every little guy and every little sword and every Lego is edible. The only thing I did, was try to make the picture look like it says “SAM” to retain my anonymity.

Each kid got to take home a LEGO Ninjago Spinner and I hired an amazing face painter who also gave the kids glitter Star Wars tattoos.

My sister-in-law got Sam his own personal cape. It was the happiest two hours of his life.

This week Sam also learned how to ride his bike without training wheels.  This of course is a huge milestone!!  Does this mean I can officially throw out my strollers and baby tricycles?

He learned in one night with Mr. Gaga’s help.  He woke up the next morning, finished his breakfast, hopped off his stool and said very casually,

“I think I will go for a bike ride.”

He has been riding his bike up and down the street ever since.

There he goes…..without me or anyone helping him. I can be found behind that hedge hysterically crying and considering if I should have another baby since this one is apparently an adult.

He goes so fast on the bike and it breaks my heart a little bit to see him so old and independent.

Saturday night we went to my parent’s house and stayed over.  In the morning, I decided to go for a run.  Michael often comes with me on his bike and I thought it would be exciting for Sam to join in since he could now keep up with us on his “big-boy bike.”

I had to keep yelling at both of them to stay close to the grass because there are no sidewalks in my mother’s neighborhood, and they have a tendency to not pay attention to where they are riding – but aside from that they did awesome.

We went down 3 hills and Sam did a great job – using his brakes.  A few times I caught him watching his brother or daydreaming as his bike veered into the middle of the road.

“SAM!! Watch where you are going!!!” I would yell and he would snap to it and go back where he was supposed to. Other than that we had no major problems.  Life was good.

We were about a mile and a half into the run and making our way back to my parent’s house.

The sun was shining and it was an absolutely beautiful morning.

I was thinking,  “I could get used to this. Maybe it’s not so bad to have two older boys!”

Michael was in front of me riding his bike as fast as he could. We were rounding a corner and Sam was behind me trying to catch up to his brother.

I was sweating but keeping up a good pace, rocking out to “Call Me Maybe,” on my Ipod.

Out of nowhere – in a quick flash – I felt hot rubber crawling up the back of my legs.  My feet were twisted and tangled into something metal.

It happened so fast – I didn’t even know what was happening.

I screamed and put my hands out – but only one hand made it out in time.

My left shoulder smashed onto the hot pavement at the same time as both of my knees.

As soon as I fell down, Sam was pulling his bike off of me.  Michael had stopped and made his way back towards us.

Disoriented, I immediately rolled into a seated position on the street and sat staring at my sand and gravel-encrusted hand and bloody knees.

“SAM!!! You have to watch where you are going!!” I yelled.

Both kids looked down at me in speechless horror.

I had to get back to the house to assess the damage – but didn’t want to freak out the kids too badly, especially Sam who 2 minutes ago was the most proud he had ever been in his life.

Tears threatened to break through, as I stood up and felt sharp pains in my shoulder, wrist and both knees.

“Ok, let’s take a short-cut home, “I said calmly as I started jogging through an empty lot that would take us home quicker.

“Don’t run, Mama,” Michael yelled. I should have walked – but I was going to cry and I was completely working off adrenaline at that point.

We got home and I ran into the bathroom and cried hysterically while I dabbed at my bloody wounds and gasped for air.

Even thought it was an accident, I was so angry. I do everything I can for this kid and this is the thanks I get.

Mr. Gaga got me some bags of ice and some water.

In between tears I cried, “I just don’t want to be fat….IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK???”

After all of my wounds were iced and cleaned – they didn’t look so bad.

This knee is the thanks I get for the totally awesome Ninjago party favors……

And this knee is the thanks I get for the totally awesome LEGO NINJAGO cake….

Thankfully I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt – so my shoulder is badly bruised and hurts but it’s not as bad as it would have been if I was wearing a tank-top.

My entire body is in pain from the impact of the fall.  My knees are jacked up – and I probably won’t be exercising anytime soon.

This is not how I wanted to make my appearance the first day on the beach.

Battered and bruised and bloody.

And fat.

Maybe some time to exercise alone in the fall- won’t be so bad after all.




I was inspired by MAMA KAT’S WRITING WORKSHOP today as one of the writing prompts was “Tell a time that you were duped.”

I am attaching a story below – that I posted on my blog in the earliest days of LADY GOO GOO GAGA, before I started using pictures. 

This incident was one of the first times I thought – I really should write this shit down – so I am reposting for the many of you that weren’t around and might have missed it!! 


So the downside to the melted snow is that my neighbors will be outside with easy access to me and my kids. This is not good. Last summer, I got a phone call from a neighborhood mother who has a preschooler, like me. Our kids have played together minimally, mostly because A – I don’t really care for this woman and B – her kid is completely out to lunch. Also, as a side note, she recently moved here from New Jersey and essentially talks like Fran Drescher from ” The Nanny.”

“Hi, I just wanted to call and tell you we mailed out some invitations, Jacob wants to put on a show in the driveway and we invited some friends to watch it.” she says when I answer the phone.

“Ok..let me just check my schedule,” I cut the conversation short and told her I would call her back. Let me also mention that we avoid playdates with these people because the house is beyond filthy and the yard is filled with piles of dog shit at all times. The invitation for ” Jacob’s Show” comes the next day and is slated for a day I had planned to meet a friend at a park with our kids.

” So now I have to cut my day short and run back here!” I complained to Mr. Gaga. ”

 Then don’t go,” he replied.
“Well nobody they invited is going to drive here for this! We are the
only ones in walking distance, and this poor kid is going to be like in the driveway with a top hat on, waiting for someone to show up!”

So of course the day comes and it’s a hot, gorgeous day at the park. Annoyed, I rush home to make it for the 3:00 showtime. I peer through the blinds and see no sign of life; no chairs in the driveway, no props, no stage. I don’t think this kid is winning any awards for set production anytime soon. At 3:35 we head over. We stand at the foot of the driveway, staring at the house waiting for them to come out.

“If they don’t come out soon, we are leaving. I’m not standing here all day,” I said to my 3 and 4 year old.

“No! Let’s knock on the door! We want to see the show!” they shouted and started to run on the grass towards the door.

“Get over here,” I said between gritted teeth, ” Don’t go on the
grass or near the house.” Just then they come out with another little boy from preschool, and Jacob’s little brother and the mother. All the kids immediately start running around the yard.

“Is anyone else coming?” I ask, carefully navigating the yard in order to avoid dog poop. “Oh no, Andrew’s mom just dropped him off and nobody else could come.”

Of course.

After about ten minutes of idle chit-chat I ask, ” So, when does the show start?”

The mom laughs like “the nanny” and calls out to her son, ” Jake, Michael’s mommy wants to know when the show is starting!”

He stops playing and we are all staring at him. “Oh well, there’s no show……it’s really just a play-date.”

I thought my head would explode. This brat tricked us into coming over for a play-date?”. Arms crossed I walk over to him and say in my fake “nice mommy” voice, ” Mikey and Sammy were excited for a show, so you are going to have to go ahead and put on a show.” He just stared at me and ran away.

So now I’m stuck in this poop-infested yard with Fran Drescher. Great. I look over and notice that the kids are now playing in a sandbox that has no sand, just filthy water in it.

“Get away from there!” I scream like a maniac.

“Whaaaatt? That’s just our pool….” Fran Drescher says with her thick accent.

My fake mommy voice is long gone.

“No….it’s not a pool….it’s a sandbox filled with still water and Legionnaire’s disease.” I said with disgust. “Ok, you guys, let’s get going.”

Whhaaattt??It’s just a pool! I’m supposed to clean things when they get dirty??????

” Oh no, you can’t leave before the cake! Jacob and I watch the “Cake Boss” and he wanted to design a cake all by himself, wait till you see it!”


It’s not enough that my kids now have West Nile Virus from the “pool” and all of our shoes are filled with dog shit, now we have to eat filthy baked goods?

Out she comes with this lumpy cake that has been squirted with basically an entire can of Redi-whip and jabbed with 25 twix cookie bars. The kids eat a a couple bites and we leave.

As soon as we get home I soak their entire bodies with hand sanitizer and I keep saying ” I cannot believe there was no show.” The kids agreed that it was totally unacceptable. I was so glad that my kids, even though they were 3 and 4, got the fact that these people were ridiculous.

The next day, I’m driving down the street and the mom flags down my car. I considered flooring it, but gave in and as I started to slow down, my 3 year old said, ‘What does this fucking guy want now?”

My sentiments exactly. We are working on the swearing, but I couldn’t have said it better myself.

The years have not been kind….

If there was one thing I vowed never to do…..

and I have done it…..I forgot that I wasn’t going to age gracefully…


In two weeks I will  turn …GULP……an undesirable age.

I am not over the hill – but I am fast approaching the hill….it’s just around the bend.

I have noticed things have really taken a turn for the worse around here.  And by “around here” I mean my cigarette wrinkles around my lips, my angry “11” in between my eyebrows and my boob wrinkles in between my sagging boobs.

So – in the midst of raising the children and being in survival mode – I forgot about my vow…..which was to  NOT grow old gracefully.

I mentioned how I get very tan in the summer, and how people speak Spanish to me from June to September.  Well all of the tanning I have done in my life coupled with smoking – apparently has destroyed the collagen and elasticity of my skin!! (*Nonetheless – next weekend I will begin my annual 3 month-long obsession with the beach – no wrinkle will deter me from the sun!!)

This always seems like a good idea – but apparently it can cause the facial skin to turn into Louis Vuitton bags….

So last summer – I had an angry “11” in between my eyebrows that was WHITE!!!!  When a wrinkle is so deep it can’t get tan…..It’s time.  It has been time for quite a while.

The last time I met up with old friends I noticed they all had a youthful glow and their skin looked smooth and radiant.

“I have to get Botox, ” I said to my friend Christina.  “I look old and weathered next to you.”

She stared back at me in silence with no facial expression.  (I’m not sure if it was because she didn’t know what to say without hurting my feelings or if she can no longer move her face muscles.)

“Yes, Lady, you should get Botox, it’s time.” she said without moving one muscle in her entire face.

I have been thinking about it a lot.   When I look in the mirror I see an old woman.  It’s not what I want to look at first thing in the morning.

Recently my friend, Martha, has been on an insane health kick.  She makes all of her own foods and beverages from organic ingredients and is obsessed with kale and salmon.  She claims her hair is shiny and silky and she has the mind and body of a 21 year old.

She says horrible things like “Well I will let the kids eat goldfish if they have to – but honestly I can make my own organic fish-shaped goat-cheese kale salmon nips – and they are so much better!!”

So – when she was droning on and on about how she eats kale smoothies for  breakfast, I interrupted her and said, “How much kale should I eat to balance out Botox?”

That quickly brought the conversation to a close, and I realized how badly I really want to have a smooth face.  I am willing to forgo other healthy ways of living…..just give me the good stuff.

Just in the nick of time a client who has beautiful skin and doesn’t seem to be aging gracefully invited me to a party this week hosted by her plastic surgeon.

“It’s an open house and she gives out prizes and has cocktails and hors d’oeuvres for her best clients.  We can invite people so you should come, this way you will feel comfortable when you go get “something done,” and it’s so fun!”

I called my friend, Annie, who also has an “angry 11”  and told her to immediately arrange babysitting to go to this party.

When we arrived we were so excited – I felt like Tamera Barney going to a Botox party.  We mingled and pretended we belonged, and we met the female plastic surgeon that was hosting the party – (who by the way had an entire face made out of plastic.)

Undeterred, we met up with my client, and she was thrilled to see us and show us around.  This woman with the perfect skin apparently spends much of her time getting “work done” and she was none too happy to tell us about her mansion and her fancy life and shopping addiction. 

Then we had our palms read – which was an added feature to the party! 

Annie didn’t particularly like what her palm had said but I didn’t pry too much and encouraged her to get another glass of champagne.

“If anyone asks – just tell them we get all of our work done in New York, ” I said to Annie has we mingled around the spa.  “We want to seem like we belong.”

When we saw my client again – she grilled Annie, about what her fortune was.  Annie was dismissive and tried to brush her off.

“Well – what did he say?” she insisted.

Finally, fed up with the inquisition, she answered,

“He said I would be poor and he said I was a doormat.”

I gulped my champagne.  “Well – you do have doormat tendencies,” I said casually – “So what?”

She agreed, “Yes – yes – I have been working on that…” she agreed.

The client grabbed the finger of her hefty wedding ring and held it up – “Well by the look of this thing I don’t think you have to worry!!” she laughed.

We threw our heads back and all had a hearty “rich person laugh” – and we continued to mingle around.  We signed up for every raffle prize we could find and we decided to make our way – with visions of smooth foreheads in our immediate future.

When we were heading out my client (aka – my new best friend) was walking out with us.  Annie had recently been inspired by my blog post about how I stole Mr. Gaga’s car.

As we walked out – Annie nudged me, and said out of the corner of her mouth, “The car.”

Oh right.  Due to my inspiring blog – she recently traded cars with her husband.  She gave him her Escalade and took his beat-up 1990 Toyota Camry.  Here we were pretending we were the “Real Housewives,” and now we had to make a less than stellar exit in a jalopy.

We laughed so hard – we probably made more wrinkles.  

I am going to make my appointment this week.  I refuse to age out of my 30’s – and if I have to…I’m not going to let my forehead know about it.

Plus if I can’t make an angry face – do you think it will inadvertently make me happier?? It’s worth a try…


10 Reasons Why My Kids are Lucky to Have Me as their Mother


Did you think I was going to get sentimental and mushy about how lucky I am to be a mother just because it’s Mother’s Day?

Nope, that’s not going to happen.

Of course, I absolutely love my boys more than words can say – but quite frankly that’s boring.

Who wants to hear about how great motherhood is and how blessed I am to have two gorgeous, happy, funny, sweet boys? 

I was thinking instead of talking about how great my kids are on MOTHER’S DAY I should talk about how great I AM!!!


1 – Of course – just stating the obvious here – but even though I am Italian and spent many years going tanning my kids are lucky enough that I don’t  roast them in a tanning bed.

2 – I let my children choose from refreshing beverages like milk or water and I give them Flintstones Vitamins with Extra C to build immunity!  I don’t breastfeed them until they are old enough to have one hand on a Wii controller and the other on my boob.

3 – If I did do something that could potentially scar them for life or embarrass them in front of their friends, I wouldn’t let some magazine reporter and photographer document said activity and publish it for the world to see.  I would not do that even if it was for the cover of TIME Magazine, because although I have a blog which could be seen as a touch narcissistic, I am not a complete asshole.  

*Side note: Although I would love to talk more about this – that is all I am going to say about US Weekly TIME Magazine!!  I see what you are doing MR. TIME Magazine Editor….I’ve got your number….and I am not going to give you the satisfaction of getting annoyed about it…..because that’s WHAT YOU WANT!!! You want us to all bicker and fight about who is the best MOM on MOTHER’S DAY!!! I am not going to do that.  I am just going to give a list of  why I AM THE BEST MOTHER…..for other reasons besides breastfeeding….because guess what???  BREASTFEEDING OR NOT BREASTFEEDING does not actually define MOTHERHOOD!!!


4 – I actually spend time with my kids. I take them to the park, or read books to them, or take them to the library instead of spending my time  “bullet-ing” all day like  many mothers in America.

5 – I could possibly be considered a “milf.”  This is especially noticeable when compared to the “milgamo’s” around this town.    (“Milgamo” stands for – “moms I’d like to give a make-over.) This doesn’t necessarily mean much – but when the kids are older I am sure they will take comfort in knowing that when I pick them up from school I won’t be wearing ‘mom-jeans.”

6 – Even though other mothers in town seem to “forget” to comb their children’s hair or let their hair grow to the floor because  “Johnny doesn’t like getting his hair cut,” I get my boys frequent haircuts and comb their hair regularly. 

I think it is important that they don’t look like drag queens on heroin at the bus stop – (like many young boys do these days.)

This little boy is in 1st grade with Michael and often sits next to him on the bus….

 7 – I make sure that my children are not fat and lazy.  On nice days I often send them outside and lock all the doors, keeping them out for long stretches of time. 

When they try to come inside and watch television or play video games, I yell and say “Do you want to be fat and lazy like all of your friends? Do you??” and shove them back out the door.

8 -I don’t really make them go to church.  My father made me go every living Sunday of my life.  I think my kids are pretty lucky that I am too lazy and tired and not-god-fearing enough, to make them go.  When we do go on occasion, if they laugh and act crazy, I probably join in instead of yelling at them.  (Sorry Jesus.)

9 – I keep it real.  I don’t hide the nitty-gritty facts of life.  The threat that my children might some day really end up in “bad boy school,” keeps  everyone on their toes around here.  “Bad boy school” is a place that my mother-in-law taught me about.  It is a place where boys go when they are mean and rotten and can be conveniently seen from the highway!  I drive fast enough by it that they never really get a good look. 

I always say “Oh look I see little sad faces peeking out the windows….See them??”

They always look out the window frantically with looks of horror – and say “Yes! I see them!!”

Otherwise known as the Colt Building in Hartford, it’s the “Bad Boy School” in the Gaga household. I always say as we drive by – “There it is kids! Keep it up and that’s where you will be living soon!”

10- I BLOG about my life and theirs – so they will have plenty of evidence of what a good mother I am and how much I love them!!!


We have a “Situation”

Boy you people sure do have opinions about “bullet-ing” – (as one reader called it in her comment last week.) I got lots of texts and emails regarding last week’s topic and fell off the couch laughing at the SNL skit on Shades of Grey last night….If you didn’t see it – google it ASAP!!

So – apparently in Connecticut we had a tornado/hurricane/end of the world in October, then we had a mild winter, then we went straight to summer with 88 degree days in March and then went back to cold, windy fall days – and this week we apparently live in Seattle. 

It was raining and misty all week and after a couple of days I just gave up with the hair.   Do people in London and Seattle just accept looking bad and walk around with bad hair??

Remember on Lost – we knew that Claire had completely lost her marbles when her hair started to look like a frizzy bad wig??? Yeah – that’s what I looked like at the bus stop this week…….

For a little while there before the “Seattle times”, and before the “May Autumn”, when it was “March Summer” – I actually had a decent tan going.

I am now back to being pasty white – which I hate.

I have mentioned before I have guidette tendencies because of my Italian background, and I have mentioned before that my son Sam was a born guido.  

He was actually born a little bit tan believe it or not.  He was born in May and I took him outside all summer long because I had a 9 month old to entertain (and I refuse to be anywhere but the beach in the summer.) 

I kept him out of the sun – in his infant carrier, under an umbrella.  By the end of the summer he was very dark brown.  He actually had a pacifier tan line – a perfect white circle around his mouth.  It’s one thing to be born with an olive skin tone – but this child was also born with the personality of an old Italian man. 

He had an affinity for velour Puma sweatsuits at an early age – it was all he would wear, he would fist pumps regularly, and he will only eat sausage sandwiches or pepperoni sandwiches for lunch.

When he was turning 2 – I asked him what he wanted for his birthday breakfast.  I told him he could have whatever he wanted – (expecting a request for donuts or pancakes.)

He replied – “Coffee and sausage.”

He wasn’t kidding. 

A few weeks ago – during the “March Summer” – we had a playdate at a park.  I sat on a bench with a tank top and capris on – basking in the 80 degree sun. I caught up with an old friend, while our boys played on the playground. 

We were deep in juicy conversation when Sam came running over out of breath – pulling on my arm – saying “Mommy, Mommy.”

I ignored him and kept talking for a few minutes – but he kept at it.

“Excuse me Mama, Excuse me Mama…”

Finally I had to stop talking to my friend…

“What? What do you want?” I asked exasperated.

“Am I getting tan?” he asked with a concerned look.

I just stared at him.

“Um – yes Sam – you probably are.”

“Ok – thanks.” he said and ran off.

I looked at my friend in shock. “What four-year-old stops playing to check on the status of their tan??” I asked with bewilderment.

“Well – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she answered.

It’s true of course.  I love a tan. I spent many years going to tanning salons and I am capable of getting frighteningly tan. 

This is me at the bus-stop with a tan.

The only sentence I know in Spanish is “No Habla Espanol” – because so many Hispanic people try to talk to me in the summer.

I love my Italian heritage – and I love that Sam is a little Jersey Shore character, especially since we live in a town where there are 2 Italians, (me and Sam.)  Even though we are all half Irish and half Italian – Mr. Gaga and Michael tend to be a little more Irish than Sam and I care for, and vice versa.

A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Gaga and I were arguing about something and he said, “Well you are absurd.”

Sam heard him and ran in from the other room to come to my defense.

“She is NOT ABSURD!!” he yelled at his father.

“Oh really? Then what is she?” Mr. Gaga said with amusement.

Sam looked at Mr. Gaga with a very serious look.

“She is ITALIAN!” he yelled indignantly.

We died laughing.

The point I am painstakingly trying to make is this.

My son was born a little “guido” that wears wife-beaters and has a New York accent and I am a guidette who likes to be tan and eat pasta.

Despite this “Situation” – it would NEVER, EVER be okay – to say – I don’t know……. TAKE HIM TANNING!

Ok I have definitely made him participate in the G and the L……..

but the T???  Really??

A woman from (where else?) Nutley, NEW JERSEY!  was arrested after being accused of bringing her 6-year-old daughter tanning! 

Now if this is not disturbing enough – I had the bad luck to watch a story about this on the news.

My eyeballs will never be the same.

If I saw this woman on the street – I would make a citizen’s arrest for disturbing the peace with her nutella-smeared leather face….and good God woman did you ever hear of blotting papers???

Apparently she has had to deal with some harsh critics lately – since she has been all over the news.  To this she replied to a TMZ reporter – “People criticize me because they are all fat and ugly.”

I am sorry – have you looked in the mirror lately Nutley, New Jersey Lady?

Do you find it all problematic that you look like Michael Jackson when he dressed up as a scarecrow in The Wiz?

Do you see your twin all the way to the right?? Are you sure you should be calling people ugly when you look like that??  At least the scarecrow has teeth and did his hair……

It’s one thing to be an idiot and go tanning incessantly – clearly we all know this is a health hazard. It can cause wrinkles and apparently make faces look like Fonzi’s leather jacket.

It’s another thing entirely – to roast your children in a tanning bed.

Excuse me Scarecrow, let me get this straight. Not only did you bring a child tanning with you – but you brought a “ginger-child?” It’s GYM, Tan, Laundry – Not GINGER, TAN, LAUNDRY!! What were you trying to do – burst her into flames???????

I love a tan like nobody’s business, but really this woman is giving tanners a bad name.

I never thought I could say this – but someone took GTL a little too far. 

I’m so glad it wasn’t me for once!





%d bloggers like this: