Fathers, Brothers, Lobster Hats, and Polaroids…

…the Recipe for Embarassment.

What follows is truly an embarassing story. One of those events in my life that I, at the time, wished would end in my death, rather than proceed. But – I look back on it now and laugh my friggin’ ass off and would NOT trade it for the WORLD. You males may want to stop reading after the first sentence – but dont. If you have daughters, plan to have daughters, or even neices or step-daughters, you may want to stick with it so that you are prepared for the horror that may be a girl’s journey into womanhood, and why you should Not Ever Celebrate This Event With Your Daughter/Niece/Stepdaughter/WhateverFemale. EVER.
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I’d LIke to Super-Size my Doctor’s Visit Please

So – in theme with my highly academic entry subjects this week, I am going to tell you a little story from my birthday this past summer. I took Lil’Zoot to Georgia the weekend before my birthday to see his dad and his aunt. His aunt had a softball tourney and we decided to camp out that night. However – the first campground we stopped at kinda made me feel like I was about to play the lead in some 1980s horror flick. As we were looking around, and I was saying “um, yeah – I haved camped ALL my life, ALL over this country, and this place? creeps me out” out of NOWHERE, this freakin’ Hornet/Wasp/Dragon/Satanic Being type creature stung the CRAP out of me. I yelled dirty words left and right and we got the hell out of there, fearing that the creature WAS a servant of Satan sent to destroy be because I was bitching about their fortress.
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I’m Addicted to Office Supplies.

Okay, I finally know what is missing from my life. Its not a child, I have one of those. It is not true love, I have one of those too. It is not a job, a car, financial stability, or a pair of Super Fly Kicks, because I have all of those.

I need a new pen. You see, I love buying and trying new pens. I cannot, and will not, leave any office supply store without buying a new pen to try. But y’all? The last 2 or 3 I have bought – SUCK. They arent a smooth line, or they smudge, or they are too fat to fit in my wallet. I mean, is it asking too much to get a pen that writes fast (yes, its possible), does not smudge, has a fine tip, and is NOT a ball-point?

Help me fill the void people. If you know of a good pen – please tell me. I’m desperate. I actually bought one of those boxes o’ bics just for the sake of buying pens. And that? Is true writing utensil desperation. With that purchase of 30 ball point pens, I hit rock bottom. Save me.

If These Dogs Could Speak…

So, we’ve been getting to know each other for awhile now, havent we? Well – I feel like I have been hiding some of my darker sides from you. It felt so good to come clean about my dislike of Seinfeld, I thought maybe I could unload my other secrets here. You see, since I was raised Catholic, I was taught that I am supposed to confess my sins to get to heaven. Well, I am not practicing anymore (why practice? I’m a professional! Ba Da Bomp! Thank you, I’ll be here all week), so what do I do with my sins now? I post them as an entry of course! So – I shall unload my complexes on you – my innocent reader – and hope it gets me into Blog-Heaven. Here we go with the first of what will be a long line of terrifying confessions. I will only do one at a time so as not to scare you away forever. We’ll call it – Monday’s Confessional. Feel free to join in anytime. It can be like group therapy.

This weeks confession: MrZ and I give voices to our animals. I mean – we actually talk FOR them. Yes, FOR them. You know, because they don’t speak YOUR language, so we want you to know what they are saying. We are kind like that…
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