How Did I Not Plan This?
Work less party party?
Naked in public, and I'm not the only one?
Body painting and spanking booths?
Why was this not my idea?
I guess I know what I'm too old for now....It's all about time and place. Kissin' and spankin' random strangers oughta be for charity, and when getting drunk and naked, there oughta be more naked people around than just me. Time and place it is.
Now what are the odds that I can get away with ditching my parents with The Kid while they're here visiting by saying I'm going to a political event....dressed in paint?
On another note, I have proven once again that I am a complete and total hypochondriac. I've had a bit of an ear infection for the past month or so, and my hearing statics out on me, and then I've got nothin. But they ban you from the parenthood club if you can't diagnose a simple ear infection, so I'm not about to go the a doctor for that shit.
Last night, Mr. Holland's Opus was on tv, and you guessed it, this morning I headed straight to the doctors, convinced that I'm going deaf. Yeah, tv moves me.
Verdict? Blow up balloons. Doctor's orders. So now you know. Of course, I hate balloons, but I hate not hearing more, and they are a hell of a lot cheaper than drugs. Less side effects, too.
Balloons it is.
Shit. I just realized that the fact that I hate:
1. Balloons
2. Clowns
3. Monkeys
Probably qualifies me for worst mother of the year. Damn.
Or quite possibly just an evil person.
Well, at least I have great tits.
I'm gonna go blow some balloons now.
Naked in public, and I'm not the only one?
Body painting and spanking booths?
Why was this not my idea?
I guess I know what I'm too old for now....It's all about time and place. Kissin' and spankin' random strangers oughta be for charity, and when getting drunk and naked, there oughta be more naked people around than just me. Time and place it is.
Now what are the odds that I can get away with ditching my parents with The Kid while they're here visiting by saying I'm going to a political event....dressed in paint?
On another note, I have proven once again that I am a complete and total hypochondriac. I've had a bit of an ear infection for the past month or so, and my hearing statics out on me, and then I've got nothin. But they ban you from the parenthood club if you can't diagnose a simple ear infection, so I'm not about to go the a doctor for that shit.
Last night, Mr. Holland's Opus was on tv, and you guessed it, this morning I headed straight to the doctors, convinced that I'm going deaf. Yeah, tv moves me.
Verdict? Blow up balloons. Doctor's orders. So now you know. Of course, I hate balloons, but I hate not hearing more, and they are a hell of a lot cheaper than drugs. Less side effects, too.
Balloons it is.
Shit. I just realized that the fact that I hate:
1. Balloons
2. Clowns
3. Monkeys
Probably qualifies me for worst mother of the year. Damn.
Or quite possibly just an evil person.
Well, at least I have great tits.
I'm gonna go blow some balloons now.
posted by Impulsivecompulsive | 4:39 PM
13 Comments:
My girl knows how to blow up balloons now. She looks so funny bent over with her puffy red cheeks and her scrunched up eyes...
To use the word hate in this context is to weaken the meaning: you are mortified of balloons. And when you are sleeping they will smother you with their shiny plastic colorful craftiness. mmmwaahaahaaha..
ha
Dearest Shadow: Someday you and I are going to sit down and read a dictionary together.
Mortify: cause to feel embarrased or humiliated.
Balloons do not embarrass me, they terrify me. And I am pretty sure that my terror of balloons is justified enough that I do not need to be embarrassed of it.
Oh, and just to make things clear, I may be scared of balloons, but I am not scared of clowns or monkeys. I just think they're really icky.
You forgot about the potatoes.
Well, yeah, do we need to publicize all my weird phobias? Because that would just be mean, now wouldn't it?
Besides, I'm not scared of potatoes that are cooked and eaten before they start to mutate. Just keep them out of my house. Unless they're precooked.
Do the potatoes have an issue with mutating in your house? Is that the real phobia?
I have a complete inability to deal with potatoes once they grow eyes. Hate that. Sickens me. Fucking hate potatoes. Nasty little creeps.
Anyway, this potatoe fear once led to my negligence to deal with a bag of eyed potatoes, which led too...I can't even talk about it. Pure horror. I had to get my mom to take care of the situation. Badness. So very bad.
I'm gonna go curl up in a corner in the fetal position now.
Oh you didn't get barbie girl to do it for you? ha ha
The acid burnt a hole in my cerebral cortex. I wonder if I can apply for learning disability through student loans because I abused hallucinagens in adolescence?
There was a seriously wicked windstorm the other night, at the same time as a full moon, and the sky was doing all sorts of wonky things. At first I thought it was facinating, then I started to wonder if it was real, or an acid flashback.
Yup.
Porny: Barbie girl was about six months old at the time. They're pretty useless at that age.
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