Kyle and I are officially older than Dairy Queen. Now that's really saying something, don't you think?
After yet another trip to the Home Depot and another hour and a half deliberating over a million various shades of brown paint, we decided to take advantage of the Dairy Queen's buy-one-Blizzard-get-one-for-twenty-five-cents thing. Would you happen to know that our nearest Dairy Queen is 13 miles away? 13 miles! It's like we live in the middle of nowhere or something. And after all that driving, and the snotty teenage cashier girl, and the $3 refund, they handed Kyle a Blizzard, the flavor of which he did not order. Very disappointing for him.
Speaking of Dairy Queen, does anyone even call it the Dairy Queen anymore? It appears to now be regularly referred to as DQ. I think that is sad. My children will grow up wondering, "What the heck is a DQ anyway?" Call me old-fashioned, but I just happen to prefer a world with fewer acronyms.