Saturday, May 24, 2008

Mobility. It's overrated.

SERIOUSLY FOLKS...

Why does everything I need to do this week require wearing pants?

I cannot put mine on.

It also hurts my back too much to cough, which means, of course, I endlessly have something in my throat begging to be coughed out. So, I have to do this awkward suedo-cough, but it takes so much focus and physical control, I completely forget to squeeze my keegles as I do it, and I pretty much pee my pants every time.

IN HONOR OF MEMORIAL DAY...

You know that old Candies shoe box you have hidden from your current husband/lover/what have you? The one full of scandalous notes and trinkets from high school?

Ahhh the memories...see, this is relevant to Memorial Day...although I am sure Memorial Day has nothing to do with reminiscing about how much of a tease you were in high school...but ya know...yeah...I'm going to go with it...skank memories it is.

Well, my BFF/LYLAS Jordan (Yup, best friends forever, love ya like a sis...says so in my yearbook, and for the record, I did stay cool and have a kick ass summer that year) stumbled upon the aforementioned box of goodies, and called me right up so we could squeal with delight over how wickedly fun we were in our younger glitter eyeshadow and padded bras days.

Witty poems, lewd pictures secretly drawn on graphing paper in art class...and then...the list.

The. List.

You know you have one.

The kind that could single handedly keep you from being an elected official, or Miss America, or even a manager at The Gap.

To properly set the scene, I recommend playing Madonna's The Immaculate Collection cassette tape.

Jordan: Oh my gawd, I found the list.
Me: What list, by the way, come across my Lisa Frank unicorn eraser collection in there?
Jordan: Um, no, and the list, like, the master list...of *whisper* boys.
Me: Sweet Jesus.
Jordan: Yup, the Holy Grail.
Me: Is it as bad as I remember?
Jordan: No, probably waaay more whore-y-er that you remember.
Me: Well, shit.
Jordan: Um, yeah.
Me: Oh, haha, remember how Jake used to keep his boxers on when-
Jordan: STOP! We need to burn this list and never speak of it again.

And, we did.

We burned the master list of every boy we ever kissed, let feel us up...oh, and other stuff. A chronological list of names with a series of cryptic makeout symbols next to each boy, only to be translated if you had the trusty key we were smart enough to make...and staple to the list...guess we didn't think that one out so well.

Aaaannnddd....scene.

I HAVE A DREAM...

When I am with my in laws at an event or family function surrounded by friends, family and co workers I have never met before, they will introduce me as their daughter in law...who is a stay at home mom, and is a *air quote*writer*air quote*.

Yes, I understand that because you feel I am not of the caliber of Danielle Steel, Nora Roberts, Dr. Phil or the guy who writes the text bubbles for Garfield, you do not consider me a "writer."

But, one of these days, soon...I hope...please God let it be soon...you will stop doing the air quotes thing when you introduce me to people. Unless it is for something totally cool like, Brittany, "Queen of all things that rock," or, Brittany, "Skinniest mom in the world." Maybe even, Brittany "Best blow job giver ever, just check that Holy Grail list of sluttery."

Ok, so probably not that one.

5 comments:

Jordan said...

Good Lord!

Natalie said...

good lord is right! and i wasn't even there!

i did have a secret box like that, but i can't even begin to tell what was in mine! nope...not telling...and you can't make me! it was burned a long time ago!

Laura said...

I was so lame I didn't get to start the list until college. Mine has also been burnt.

Nilz said...

There are some secrets in everyone's life that he/she will never disclose.

Brittany said...

Jordan...sorry girly, I had to do it.

Natalie...I know, I know..I should be ashamed...and yet, I am totally not.

Laura...hey, a list is a list, regardless of when it started...I guess us country girls were bored...at a younger age:)

Nilz...I agree, it's just that my blog tempts me too much...and I have verbal diarrhea:)