I have been down on my knees crying and screaming to God, “Why me? Why meeeeeeeeee?” I have sunburn. It hurts. I told Mr. Snort he needs to come home post haste so that I can go to the ER and possibly get admitted to the burn unit because let’s face it: I am capable of feeling far more pain than any other person on the face of the Earth. All of the doctors want to examine me because I have so many health problems that the regular public does not.
Mother and Father Snort abandoned me, Mr. Snort, and our wee babes today. Selfish bastards. What could be more important than watching my kids so I can sleep, cleaning my house, paying my bills, and booking spa services for me? Um, hello! I am their only daughter. Even though I am quite certainly most possibly miffed I did pack them a picnic basket full of black rice, hemp hearts, hemp intestines, hemp brains, homemade Skippy peanut butter, and a dozen raw eggs in a Ziploc baggie (with a straw) so they wouldn’t get hungry on their trip home.
Footlong is excited that classes at his brick and mortar training center are starting again in two weeks. He is supposed to be going into the first grade, but I am lobbying the principal let him teach the first grade. He is already working on calculus and sculpting busts of presidents past. Last night built a working hot tub out of a large cardboard box, empty fish tank, a roll of paper towels, 3 strips of duct tape, a pack of D batteries, and an English muffin.
6-inch is a hot mess as usual. The first anniversary of his birth is Friday, but we celebrated last night so that Mother and Father Snort could enjoy it. Seeing as how my babe has 6 teeth I made him a birthday quinoa and clementine trifle. First, he refused to blow out the candles. To further spite me he then urinated on himself and squealed, “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Told him to use his adult words I did; he contemplated my request with a scrunched up thinking face then proceeded to rectally excrete a brick into his disposable toileting receptacle. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” replied I. I helped him to unwrap his gift (the complete writings of Danielle Steele and L. Ron Hubbards “Dianetics”). Awaited thanks I did but greeted was I instead with a look of confusement. Cheeky little buggar that one is.
I am headed to a wonderful convention a fortnight from present. I have been selling personalized rubber bands (click here for a voucher for a free rubber band ball with your first purchase!) from Acme, and I am a now a platinum sales qualifying elite consultant director princess. As this is a prestigious event where I will receive many accolades, love, money, and devotion (woo-hoo!) I have been shopping for the perfect business attire and have settled on this conservative number to accentuate all of my charms:
I have also decided to lose some weight before the convention to look my absolute best. I am down 89 pounds since June 1st! Can you tell how awesome I look and how thin I am?
I guess that is all for now. Footlong has written a one act play and wishes to direct me in his production of “My Mom Is Fucking Awesome.” Yeah, I know ☺
Platinum sales qualifying elite consultant director princess
Acme Personalized Rubberbands
“Let me help you get your stretch on!”
I had a great time with my mom and dad and don’t know when I’ll see them in person again. Footlong is excited about going to school. 6-inch is adorable, happy, chubby, and is just as much a blessing and joy as his brother. I do know how to dress appropriately for all occasions—above I was dressed for Halloween, and you are a stupid shit if you thought I was seriously wearing that outfit in public. Footlong does not use the F-word. I’m pretty sure Acme just sells products to capture roadrunners.