you might think i'm getting too big for my britches.
what with not answering all my comments recently.
you'd be wrong.
i thought i'd try the whole "cool" gig.
you know, the dark mysterious, my life is not an open book thing...
but my life is an open book.
it would be fun to be cool for once though.
but not i.
i'm loud and jolly and perverted and soft and sweet and quiet and demure and flirtatious and cold and brave and scared.
but not cool.
it's a cool summer, though.
or so i hear.
or is that cruel?
some song from the 80's.
i think i smell something.
(and no, it's not me. i showered over an hour ago...)
could it be?
a band wagon.
i think i'll climb right on and stradle that thing.
i'm going to sign up to be a Bozley's Angel.
and you should too.
forget i said anything.
maybe i can be cool if there are limited numbers of angels...
nah, forget it.
the more the merrier.
if i could sing worth a shit, i'd sing hallelujah right now.
i feel fantastic.
well, i don't feel like dog shit on the bottom of Kevynn's shoe.
and that's a pleasant change.
and i'm infused with holiday spirit.
or homemade tequila.*
i feel like swinging from the rafters, doing a strip tease and redecorating my house.
i feel like laughing and crying all at once.
i feel like rolling a piece of ice around in my mouth.
i feel like getting a tan and a massage and a pedicure.
i feel like taking a nap.
all that planning just wore right the fuck out.
well, i'm sure our numbers will dwindle over the next few days, so happiest of happy holidays to you all. may your stockings get stuffed (and anything else you wish) and your bodies stay well and your liquor cabinets stay replenished and your fruitcakes be useful for something and your hearts be at peace with family and friends.
big fat french kisses to all of you. (or hugs for those disinclined to kiss a girl)
*note: i just thought that sounded good, i don't actually drink when i'm in charge of my kids.