He you guys! So I was not feeling well this week. You know, cause I sent the kids back to that petri dish they call school. Also I have been writing for other folks, and again I am too shy to share. I just straight up told Mama Prime I would direct her to my work and when I got home I cried because I don’t want her to know how awful my work really is. Yes, I said shy. Why are you surprised? Oh, because I am a butthead loudmouth on here? Yeah, well.
Anywhoo. Pop question: When everyone in the house is sick, who do you tend to first? A) Your oldest, B) the middle child who never gets enough attention, or C) the baby because he’s the baby? Haha, trick question—the answer is D) the Big Man. Because he is pathetic. Or pitiful. I can’t decide. Pathetiful? Yes. YES. No one copyright this until I feel like it.
Now. To my random thoughts.
I told the Destroyer that if he goes to a school dance, and a girl he’s dancing with dances anything like I do, he should call me immediately and get away from her as fast as he can. If a girl can booty roll and shake the way I could (and, *ahem* still can) I don’t want him anywhere NEAR her. #parentalhypocrisy
I finally gave away my hope jeans. You know those jeans you hold onto hoping you’ll lose weight back into them? Yeah, well I lost hope. Also, they are now out of style. I wish you well in your Goodwill endeavors, hope jeans.
The Destroyer, my son, who came from my own body, didn’t know how to spell Vegeta. Or Super Saiyan. I have failed him spectacularly. Don’t call CPS.
Remember how I said Skeletor was undateable? Well, I follow him on Twitter and he seems cool. Danzing is still undateable, though.
My grandma’s in town! This is awesome because she’s awesome.
I live in Vancouver, Washington. I thought it was cloudy today, but I think I’m wrong. I think it may be the haze of smug coming across the river from Portland. Yes, smug.
I was late taking Kid Sensation to school the other day. He was up in his room playing so quietly I forgot he was there. You guys, he was being so nice and quiet that I was validated as a parent. I mean, if I can forget you exist, you’re a pretty good kid, right? Please don’t call CPS.
I want to have a cooking show. But I can’t because I wouldn’t know how to cook without being interrupted. Or having to break up a fight. Or getting into a fight. Or putting out a small fire.
On second thought, my cooking show might be pretty good. Will you guys watch it?