outdoorsy = getting drunk outside

This morning I took a little stroll through the old Google Analytics and found that two people in the last month have arrived at my blog by searching for "Mr. RB Memphis."

For serious? I can't make this shit up.

In other news, Mr. RB and I are going camping this weekend. Here's hoping we don't get eaten by bears, or in a more likely scenario, that I don't barf up marshmallows and graham crackers all over half of Arkansas. (Thus attracting said bears to come and eat us. ACK.)

There's a possibility this camping trip will invite the appearance of tall boys into my life once again, so thankfully a computer will be nowhere nearby for me to continually update my status in all capital letters with no punctuation. And, I should clarify -- there will absolutely, without a doubt be beer, but there is a chance said beer will come in tall-boy form. I say this because Mr. RB wants me to try this stuff called Steel Reserve that (as far as I can tell) only comes in a big-ass can. So there are two big-ass cans of it in his fridge, which the other day he referred to as His and Hers.

Hey, better than monogrammed towels, I say.


cheers,
elizabeth