Look at this funny naughty picture called fallen woman. Oh and I'm reading How to Heal the Hurt By Hating, or rather I just finished it. Pretty funny, not rip roaringly so, but good enough. Okay off to deliver wine and pasta dinner baskets to a few local loved ones and then it's off to pick up the Beau monkey from his Ugio card tournament. Irma came by with the kids to get her check and Monica was crying because her Ugio or is it Yugio cards were missing and she thought either Beau or George stole them. I told her not to fret that I would get to the bottom of this card theft business, get her old ones back, and get some new ones.
I spoke to Scott's Daddy and his scary girlfriend last night. I've been avoiding them for many years. But I want to try to be kinder to them for Scott's and their sake. I'm excited about Scott's secret half sister coming. Am I allowed to tell you about this? Has Scott? He's so funny sometimes, plays his cards so close to his chest, why does he do that? Does it come from hurt? Why would such a wonderful dear man ever have to be afraid of loving anyone? Sucks doesn't it.
He's not like me though. I'll use my dog-petting metaphor. Whenever I see a dog, and I do mean WHENEVER I SEE A DOG, I run over and try to lavish affection upon it, yup, I slobber all over the dog. I never know if one of maybe three things will happen, a.) the dog and the owner will both enjoy my un bid affections and everything will be joyous, b.) the dog will bite me, c.) the owner will be a snobby shit and yank their poor dog away from me, or d.) the dog will try to shake my hand, miss, and give me a bloody eye. I had to add that last one because this recently happened. Now, when the dog and their owner are kind and receptive, I am on a dog-loving happiness high for hours, maybe even the whole day. But when the person, not the dog, because I never blame the poor dog, is mean to me, I feel this deep in my insecure fat girl heart and take it super personally. But I have a choice here, I can give up the joyous doggy greetings for the peace and security of knowing that I will never be judged, looked down upon, or hurt, that close up, by some rude stranger, or I can go on risking. I of course choose to go on risking because frankly who in their right mind would want to miss out on all that french doggy kissing? Exactly, but Scott has been bit, metaphorically speaking, so many times that he has given up the whole dog greeting business.
In the interest of spreading the love this holiday season why don't you go over there and pet the dog for me. Please?
Did Rob Lowe really quit The West Wing over a salary dispute? Is he out of his fucking mind? I just lost the audience there didn't I?
PS: Okay I don't know if I've scared you enough with this last post, french kissing dogs etc. so just to be sure here it comes...wait for it..it's..circus clowns, aggggggggggghhhhhhhhh noooo nooooo nooooooooo....
You hate clowns don't you? Well, me too. My Mother had a secretary who was a clown once. A real clown, with mismatched wacky clothes, and a car with a big clown head on the top of it. She was scary too. I hated her, she judged me and interfered in family matters that were none of her business. She tried to turn my parents against me, and she was a liar. She was an evil clown, and she wrote poetry. I'm so glad she's gone. Okay well, just to be fair, I don't think all clowns are bad, there are probably some nice clowns, there, just to be fair.