1. your ass looks so great in your new jeans that you have a hard time making yourself walk forward...
2. your hair somehow dries into perfect bouncy ringlets with no more fussing than usual (usual fussing = zero)
3. your husband is cajoled into "working from home" for the morning so that you can:
a. bake him blueberry muffins and scramble some perfect eggs
b. turn on some pr0n and make like the Discovery Channel.
4. there's still enough time left before kid pickup to write a post.
Yes, there is a god.
or at least a very smooth karmic flow surrounding my freshly fucked aura.
So, Mondays are goooood.
to the last drop.
Although I'm sure tonight will be a much less pleasant work-to-pleasure ratio...
oh well, it's still going to be super fun.
TRICK OR TREAT!
Now if only I can convince my kids not to chant "smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don't I don't care, I'll pull down my underwear!"
Pretty sure that won't get them very far...
And at least I have $70 worth of candy.
good christ, I hope that's enough.
Although, if it's not...
I don't care.
I'll just flash 'em.
not the kids...
just the hot dads.
there are a bunch of hotties in our neighborhood, by the way.
Tomorrow begins National Novel Writing Month.
The gist is: write 50,000 words (approx 175 pages) before November 30th.
no prize, just the rush of doing it, the thrill of accomplishing it.
I started and finished in 2002.
I have yet to make it past the first page since then.
I think I might be ready to give it a shot.
No, I will not be posting my work as I go.
Stephen King says to write with the door closed,
and I don't think he just means so you don't get caught looking at pr0n.
which brings me back to my earlier reference,
and I feel you should know:
traditionl pr0n does nothing for me.
I get too distracted by the absurd fakeness of it.
That doesn't mean I don't want each and every one of you to send me the dirtiest possible photographs of yourself
(dirty sexy, not dirty unclean, for you pedantists out there)
(in case my husband's reading...)
I was just kidding.
On that somewhat awkward note,
I think I'll go Lysol my brain & pick up the kids.