On my way to work, I saw a bunch of little kids, like 6 or 7 years okd, waiting at the school bus stop. It was 8 degrees outside, with a wind chill of “fuck fuck, mother-ever-loving FUCK!”
See, this is why I can’t have kids. I barely got MYSELF out of bed this morning. If I’d had tiny people in my house whose main goal in life is to hang out, eat cereal, and watch cartoons? “OK, screw it. We’re taking a ‘snow’ day. You there, start the blanket fort. You, you’re on storytime, go pick out some books. What’s 2 + 2? Right, FOUR! Excellent, A+. Y’all are gonna be fine. I’m on breakfast — Pop Tarts sound good? Mommy’s going to have her special Irish coffee, and then I’ll be right with you.”
My kids would be the weird home-school kids at the beginning of “Mean Girls.” Hopefully minus the guns and homophobia.
P.S. I’m trying NOT to think of this as a gross invasion of privacy, because it doesn’t seem like these guys know they’re on this site, nor that they consented to be. And I’d be a little skeeved if someone put my photo on a “Hot Girls Reading” site. (I mean, they wouldn’t, I’m merely cute, but OK, then, a “Cute Girls Reading” site.)
But…they’re just so majestic and lovely. I’m sorry, gentlemen. I was under the influence of your dreaminess? Is my hypocrisy going to be a problem?
I know. I am a terrible person. Fortunately there’s no blood in my brain to really let that trouble me too much.
I’m almost 40, so obviously I was rockin’ out to “All About that Bass” in the car on the way into work this morning.
Singing along, I started wondering about this magical unicorn of a mother she had that told her “Don’t worry about your size.” According to my mother, the ONLY thing I had to worry about was my size. Oh, and using condoms. (Explains a lot, doesn’t it?)
But just in case you’d forgotten, every inch of you is perfect, from the bottom to the top. (Especially the men. Y’all have the best inches…)
I sincerely hope I never spoke about my ex (or about anyone, really) the way I hear some women talk about their husbands. (I am 99.9% sure I didn’t, even when we broke up.)
Jesus Christ, I get that you need to vent sometimes, but it’s like you never talk to THEM. You must be saving it all for me, because alllllll you do is bitch. And let me tell you, listening to it is an absolute TREAT.
Do you love this person? Do you even LIKE him? You really need to buffer by mentioning some of the nice things, because you’re either married to a complete fucking jag, or you’re just an ungrateful asshole who can’t see what he does for you. And honestly, having met both people in the relationship, it’s really a tossup.
1. If you need me, I’ll be slamming my head into a wall.
2. I don’t even really have time to comment on this. I’m too busy packing and booking a flight, because if she’s “plus-sized,” I’m clearly the queen of England, and my people are probably wondering where I’ve been.
Not snark: “‘I know my curves are sexy and I want everyone else to know that theirs are too. There is no reason to hide and every reason to flaunt,'” Graham says in a statement.”