Your world is filled with delicious options. Time to sample the buffet.
Isn't that always the way when you need to lose a few pounds. Fucking Universe. It's conspiring against me... against me, I tell you!!
This part was more promising, though I'm leery any time the actual Universe is named because of (see above):
Talk about a fun, exciting time! The Universe has finally heard your silent plea for new and interesting company -- and better still, it's arranged to make that wish come true.
I was just saying last night at dinner (right after my youthful appearance sparked a round of checking i.d.s that was rivaled in idiocy only by this nation's president) that I've decided that want a bona fide entourage. You know, a few folks to follow me, hang on my every word, etc... in a word, some Peeps. (PHF's term, not mine!)
PHF pointed out that perhaps my blog audience was an entourage of sorts.
I said I didn't think you all would appreciate being called peeps. "You know some of us bloggers" (ewey, I still hate that word) "still have a measure of self-respect left. Sure, we enjoy the company of our little stranger pen pals to nearly the exclusion of all other activities. Sure, our self-worth is now measured in hits and comments. Sure we fantasize about people who likely look and behave nothing like the characters they perpetuate on the net. But we have standards, by God and no one," I was standing up by now, beer in one fist, pounding the white-table-clothed, steak place table with the other, "no one will ever call us Peeps."
Then everyone of course started making little chickie noises and I ran out of the restaraunt crying like a little baby who's just been pinched. But I didn't spill my beer.
When I returned after seeing to my eyeliner and mascara (of which I wear a significant amount) Virtigo pointed out that I do have an entourage, and have had for lo these six years. She was referring to the ubiquitous Lad and MonkeyLass.
She had a point, dammit. But, that means all of you are off the hook.
Funny comment by the Lad:
This very a.m. the kid got up, but for some odd reason went back to bed. After about the first five times of telling him to get up... What I said was "get up, honey." What I was thinking was "Get the fuck up, for crissake, you'll be late to school and then I'll have to go in and sign something in the office!" Anyway, when I started sounded irritated his response was thus:
*giggle* "I didn't hear a please."
me: *dramatic sigh while trying not to laugh out loud and not succeeding* "Please."
him: *giggle giggle* "Say the whole sentence, including please."
Which of course is what I always say to him. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop when we are children, though doesn't.
I'm working on a post with the working title "Actual shit mothers have said to their adult children." If you have anything to contribute, send suggestions to firstname.lastname@example.org, and thanks in advance. (Not that I don't have plenty of my own experiences to draw from.)