Easter, Schmeaster

I've discovered that I really dislike ham. Sorry, but there it is. I'm not sure what it is, the pinky color, the grody bone in the center of it, or just the texture, but if I was on a reality show and all I could eat was ham for the next 40 days, I'd lunge for the nearest cameraman and take a bite outta him.

Anyway, so yesterday was Easter and guess what we had for dinner?

Yeah.

I survived, though. I just chased it down with many glasses of wine. It worked really well, too. By the end of the night I found myself actually packing some ham slices into foil TO BRING HOME WITH US.

This morning, I had the unpleasant sight of it when I opened the fridge. Yeeeew. Ham meet Garbage. Garbage, "NOM NOM NOM NOM!"

I bought a kickass dress for le bebe at Target and the baby looked so cute in it. But alas, I can only show assy, blurry pictures because Emmersen has decided that the camera is an evil soul-sucking device and must be avoided at all costs. She's like a mini celebutante racing away from the paparazzi every time I take out the camera. GAH.

But first, cheep!

And now let the craptastic Easter photos begin...

Here you'll find one very underenthused baby, who's all like, "What's this shit? Me no like."

And then...

"I'm ouuta here."

(She didn't even want to bother with looking for the rest of her age-appropriate gifts. But no candy because I'm mean.)

See my butt? It says go away.

Talk to the hand, lady.

And then later..."I'm wearing my dress, but I'm not looking up."

"I am very busy and important."

And finally, we get a smile.

Sheesh.