Shush! All of you! Stop being so excited about this blog post! I know how thrilling it can be to bear witness to the greatness that is the Buchanan, but this is ridiculous! You there! Stop yelling “I love Kacie!’ And you! I command you to stop oogling over Scott! Hey… the bloggerite in pink! Don’t feed the cat your steaks! He’s named Fat Al for a reason! Goodness gracious, all of you out in BlogLand should be ashamed of yourselves! No one’s gotten this out of control since we took pictures of my beautiful biceps… we had so much traffic on the website that we shut it down for a whole week, but that’s beside the point!
(Awkward pause while you all settle down)
1.2 and six eighths
Are we ready? Good.
For those of you that don’t know, the gorgeous Kacie and I were married in a past life. It’s true. Scott, if you’re reading this, please don’t be jealous, we can’t help it, we have a special bond.
Anyways, in our past life she was the elusive Veronica Vickerson. I was the energetic billion dollar boy Deuce McGubbon. Veronica (Kacie) was one of the executives for my largest competitor. At first, I despised her. Every business deal I lost, or government contract my company didn’t receive, I blamed her for. She was so smart, so devilishly good-looking. I couldn’t stand it! I gave her the nickname “Veronica the Vindictive.” Coincidentally, a new restaurant had opened up near both of our towering skyscrapers, and became a local favorite. Every single day we would sit at opposite sides of the dining hall, scowling at each other, grunting with distaste. Now, one day it got a little out of hand. As I recall, it was a Tuesday, in midst of the busy noon lunch hour. I was seated in my usual spot, enjoying a lightly marinated chicken breast with wild rice. Of course Veronica was also there, in a scantily clad outfit that caused every man in the restaurant to go “ga-ga.” I could tell she was staring at me, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of even looking in her general direction. Minutes passed, when suddenly I was struck in the head by a crusty baguette.
“How dare you!” I said sternly as I picked up a handful of rice. “I’ve never like you!”
I remember it all happening in slow motion. The ball of loose rice sailed through the air, leaving a trail as it went, and hitting Kacie, I mean Veronica, right in the belly.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed. “What is wrong with you?! Help! Police! He’s gone mad! Deuce… Deuce… Deuce’s wild!”
Back to the story —
“I’m not wild Ms. Vickerson! You threw that crusty baguette right at my head!”
“So? I always thought you were a little crusty!”
We then each picked up a butter knife and went for each other.
“To the death then!” I exclaimed.
“Yes,” said Veronica, “yours!”
In retrospect, being the business people that we were, we didn’t make such good “knife-fighters.” We were both very uncoordinated and while we tore the restaurant apart fighting each other, we never actually made contact with the other (rumor has it a filet mignon was injured though and never made it to someone’s mouth… sad). In the end we were both escorted to jail, and later convicted of disturbing the peace and a lot of other legal hub-ub. We spent the next 62 months in a correctional facility. One day at lunch I threw up all over myself, Veronica laughed so hard snot came out of her nose and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
Okay, I guess not “ever since.” In this new life we were estranged for a while, and she married this Scott fellow and is seemingly happy. Heck, she’s having his kid. Sad, but I’ll get over it, because we shall forever be soulmates. Here is the proof that she’s having a baby that is not mine… Baby Buchs I like to call it. Well, better luck next lifetime I guess…. but Enjoy!
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