What the French, Toast?

I’m currently on the couch cuddled next to Binxy and watching B play video games on our new telly. Best Buy was having a huge winters-end sale yesterday (even though there's like two more months of winter; good job geek squad) and we scooped up a new flat screen. We got it up and running just in time to see SU lose to ‘Nova in overtime (what a joke, Orange; Jimmy B must have let loose in that locker room). 

To console ourselves w/ the loss, we popped in The Avengers. Have you ever seen Hulk smash on 72 inches? Me either; I don’t think that much TV would fit in our yard, much less our living room (B isn’t Clark Griswold, so I’m able to keep a lid on those kind of purchases). Fortunately Robert Downey Jr. looks good on any sized screen.

 

After a failed French toast debacle this morning, my confidence is shot for the rest of the day. I wanted to get a haircut, hit up Bed Bath & Beyond, spend an exorbitant amount of money at Target on items I don’t really need; a real Sunday Funday indeed. Instead I’m going over the recipe in my head over and over trying to figure what went wrong. The bread was falling apart before it even made it into the pan. Good thing I bought two loaves of that garbage. Hope it fares better in grilled cheese.

 

Seeing as I had no actual ideas for a post, I’m pleasantly surprised I managed to wrangle three coherent paragraphs. Now I’ll just dump in some pictures like a real blogger. I feel better already; who needs French toast when I’ve got pictures of Binx?

This isn't a pic of Binx. But these guys always make me feel better.