Earl Murders Me Because I’m Having An Affair Pie… You smash blackberries and raspberries into a chocolate crust
I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie… Vanilla custard with banana. Hold the banana
Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie… Lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in. Flambé of course
I Hate My Husband Pie… You take bittersweet chocolate and don’t sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel
Dear Baby: If I was writing you a letter, it would probably sounds something like an apology. I know everyone deserves a mama who’d want a nice baby such as yourself… who was also a good wife, a fine member of a society. And I can’t rightly say that I’m any of that. And I’m not sure the world is scuh a fine place to bringing you. Many of the people I’ve met are not worth meeting. Many of the things that happened are not worth living through. And you shouldn’t take it personal, Baby… if I don’t seem like all the other mama-to-be, jumping all over themselves with joy. I frankly don’t know what I got to give you, Baby. What if I leave Earl, and don’t win that contest next week, and don’t have money? What the hell am I gonna give you then? All my life, Baby, the only thing I wanna do is run away. What kind of mama is that? I wish I could think other things, Baby, like excitement that you with me now… or faith that I’ll be a good mama… even if my life ain’t such a good place, and the world as I see it ain’t so pretty like they’d have you believe in this book. Anyway, writing this letter to you, sounds more like a letter writing to me, don’t it? Love, Mama.
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