Classy lay-day…whoa whoa woah… she’s a layday!

So today I’m going to talk about what a class act I’ve become.  I realized what things have progressed to when during my break (yes, Roman sometimes gives me breaks) I was sitting outside, reading Real Simple magazine hoping they have tips this month on how to get your hair washed more than once a week and noticed there was a sample of Donna Karan Cashmere perfume wedged in the pages.  So, I tore it out, hoping to maybe use it to cover up some of the stink (I aspire to smell like a prostitute who runs a daycare during the day).  A moment later, a small bug was crawling across the table where I was sitting at, so I squashed it with my finger and proceeded to wipe it onto the sample.  I needed to save the bug to feed to Maddie’s new Venus fly trap and in that moment I realized that the creatures and critters of my children’s childhood have preceded importance to me ever being a groomed and classy lady ever again.  Well, perhaps I never really reached THAT high of a level of class, but I’ve definitely taken a huge step back.  Another perfect example, that just drove the point home was as I was writing this, Hank came to the screen door and told me to get my “poop shoes” so he could power wash the crap off the bottom (I stepped in dog crap yesterday and discovered it only after I had tracked shit all through the house… *sigh*).  It was a new level of defeat as I tucked my tail between my legs and sulked to get my “poop shoes”.  Not pumps… not those cute little ballet flats that I haven’t bought because they never look right with my pajama pants… my POOP SHOES… I’m beside myself with grief… I wipe bugs on perfume, I have poop shoes and I’m wearing my pants with the top button undone so it doesn’t pinch my stomach fat.  *double sigh*.

ANYWAY… I’ll talk about all things glamorous in my life, which is that I have met a wonderful man.  He’s a little short, but dear God, I’ve never seen anyone so handsome in my life.  I’ve only known him a little over a month, but I definitely know that I’m in love.  He’s got dark hair and eyes and a smile like the sunrise.  I am so smitten with this guy that I can even overlook his little quirks like he is very emotional and cries at the drop of a hat (chicks dig sensitivity though, right?).  Also he craps in his pants sometimes, but I don’t even care!  He’s got a bit of a breast fetish, but what man doesn’t?  He’s smart and incredibly clever.  He sweeps me off my feet every time he says, “gooooo”.  I just can’t say enough good things about him and if you aren’t impressed yet, wait until I tell you that he can even hold his head up all by himself… sometimes.  😉

Well, all novel writing styles aside, Roman is amazing.  I was so scared about having myself a little boy to take care of, with all those little dangly parts and all, but, really?  I love his little dangly parts.  Ok, turn your pedophilia sensors off… that’s not what this is about… I just want to talk about how cute his little cockleballs are!  I generally think the male form is rather unsightly, but his tiny little versions of it are just so freaking adorable.  I suppose even ugly old walruses are cute when they’re babies… so am I saying anything little is cute?  Yes.  With the exception of bugs.  If you think I’m weird, you must not have a little boy.  And if you DO have a boy and STILL think I’m weird, I’m sorry your child has deformed genitalia but my son has the cutest little boy giblets you’ve ever seen.  I’d tell you to come over and see for yourself, but that MIGHT border on pedifilia, so don’t… unless you REALLY want to.  🙂  hehe.  I’m creepy.  Time to let my man nurse… and then it’s Roman’s turn… ha ha freaking hah.  I’m a god damn laugh riot…. that was a joke.  That’s how you know you’re funny when you have to tell people when to laugh…

9/9/2007 11:19:00 AM

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