Why does everyone die at Christmas? My grandmother died at Christmas two years ago. And now Olivia is dead too! I can’t say I ever really felt a connection to Olivia, I was more of a Maria or a Mr. Hooper kind of girl, but she taught millions of us little childrens all kinds of important stuff.
I’m not talking about this Olivia, btw:
She’s not real and therefore, cannot die. At least, I don’t think she can die. Anything is possible, I guess.
I’m talking about this one, for those of you lazy so-and-sos who didn’t click the link:
So yes. Olivia. RIP. Nobody is talking about it because her death isn’t sexy like Brittany Murphy’s. I hate the fucking media. I really do.
Olivia contributed way more to the world, I dare say.
Anywho, thank you guys so much for all the wonderful recipes yesterday! You’re all so helpful, and it took you forever to type all that in! You saved me from having to sit here searching the Internet. It came to me! YAY!!!
I think I might go with a pot roast for the meat thing as suggested by k8 because it can be done in my crock pot and not take up my oven. That sounds smart because what usually happens is I wind up with everyone fighting over oven space to heat up/bake the shit they brought and it always turns into a game of who the fuck are you using my daughter’s/son’s/brother’s oven where my mother’s green bean casserole and my mother-in-law’s potatoes volley for space with my sister-in-law’s thing and it’s a big. giant. clusterfuck.
And then I drink some wine and hide in the garage with a smoky treat.
I don’t give a fuck if the casserole is cold from being in the car, goddammit.
Don’t make me kill you.