That extra Del Taco brought inside and set on the stove counts as dinner if mom's still napping when dad gets home from work.
That my eldest daughter, Chicken, believes Geoffie is marginally cuter as her hair grows out in front of her face, but that A. This establishes her identity as a roomba and B. She doesn't smell good. At all.
That the chicken I made last night and then sautéed with garlic and vegetables was GREAT, but put that same chicken and broth in with some noodles and carrots, you are lambasted for having chicken soup that "tastes funny" and the Del Taco was enough, really.
That I will eat my funny tasting chicken soup and like it. No, not for spite. Mostly.
That a short enough layer on my hair qualified as "bangs" and renders any questions about my next dye job moot because OMG MOM HAS BANGS.
That Mate likes Bosch better than Luther because it freaks him out when Luther talks to the serial killer.
That I'll watch Bosch with Mate because I think Bosch (Titus Welliver) LOOKS like Mate and while he doesn't see the difference, the similarities are pleasing to the eye.
That Mate's resemblance to Titus Welliver doesn't preclude an insane drooling attraction to Idris Elba, who, if he likes a serial killer, might not think I'm that weird!
And finally...
That it doesn't matter which one we watch, there are few things more pure than a boy and his smelly roomba dog, watching television together.
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