So I was thinking about what I could get you for Christmas and I realized, it is a whole dose of me.
I started you a blog!
Surprise!
Obviously, by this stage of your new job you are missing me terribly. I recognize that you are spending long hours waiting in line with nothing to do and so you are probably spending a lot of time thinking of me like this:
I am sure you spend time thinking of how good my hair smells, and how you can bounce a quarter off of my ass and that I have a perfect set of snow cone tits--
And so I thought that I would bring you the Christmas gift of what Reality is like around the homestead while you are away.
For starters:
Since you are reading this from your iPad (you lucky dog) I assume you get great picture resolution.
You should be able to notice that one of my feet has considerably more hair on the toes.
This is because last week I thought, "Fuck it, Martin isn't even here to see my legs and toes, why even shave them?" RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SHAVING. (that's love right there).
If you have really great resolution, you can see that one of my legs has a fine mist of hair that is pretty long, but amazingly clear so maybe not that offensive--the other has stubble.
You will notice the appalling state of my pedicure.
I am pretty sure you didn't know this--but I keep my toe nails painted because you once mentioned that you liked the look of ripped jeans and bare feet with bright red toe-nails.
When you think about it, I paint my toe nails to entice you, and this is a service I have been preforming for years--
You Are Welcome--
Since you have been gone I have been thinking: "Fuck it, it is winter and I wear socks. I can look like a Yeti beneath my clothes, I will get out the weed whacker before Martin gets home."
Right about now you are probably thinking about how adorable I am again--which probably is causing you to miss me and my great cooking and the way I know where your corn pads are located.
My final dose of reality comes from the simple fact of this blog:
Why is it that I am creating a blog in the middle of a work day in which I should be working because I am currently employed??
THAT is a story of the plague that has descended upon our house. It is a clear example of why a person should get a flu shot. Jacob is home today with general malaise, and I am experiencing some intestinal distress and also applying for a different job--
(It pays more money, and it is more along the lines of my career goals. Plus it has a better title. And more money. And I am pretty sure that the reason the family is going down is because a woman with snot on her hands grabbed my hand. When I gagged, she thought it was funny. So she wiped a booger on my face. It is true. I could probably ask the center to find the segment on the security tapes, but I think you can just take my word for it. Did I mention that the new job offers more money?)
Now the problem is: I might not get that other job and my missing work might lose the job I currently have--and then I might become one of those hippy ladies with ZZTop beards and a pair of Birkenstock.
On the brighter side, the basement is much cleaner. I took away the XBox until the cleanliness rate met my expectations.
That is therapy talk for: "I got shit to a level where social service won't think our children's living conditions are detrimental to their welfare."
I know. I am getting an A in the mom game!
In closing, here is a Christmas picture of me.
I would invite you to look at it and see me getting all sexed up with feathers and perhaps a pair of slutty shoes.
Pretend that the toothpaste streaks on the mirror are actually snow falling and I am getting ready to get all funky in the great outdooors like we did that one year after the Beerfest.
Remember? We lived in the Cat House, and Missy had the kids for an overnighter and we made druken love behind the shed on top of a tarp and then went to bed at 8:00 and slept like the dead until the next morning at 9:00 when the kids came home.
On the Reality side:
I am wearing the hat so my grey roots won't be exposed and the picture is cropped so that you can't see that I am wearing yoga pants.
I picked one with the camera flash and the camera obscuring my face because--dude! I am getting some baggy eyes in my old age.
The picture was taken just a few short seconds before I "powdered my nose".
Reality at Chessey Manor isn't really that pretty right now, but I do want you to know:
I Love you so much that there is no reason to shave when you are gone.
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