First of all, Rockstar Mommy, my best friend, sent me lovin’ on her blog and I am so blissed out now. Really. It is better than the elusive “O.” And I was feeling so fat today! Now I feel skinny and pretty.
Love you, too, babes. She’s getting the Internet to buy her new breasts. Or new bandwidth, whichever. She is not fussy. Can you dig this? The girl is brilliant in so many ways. And she does not need new tits, her current set is fine (in my humble opinion) but we all are allowed our freedom of expression. Me? I’m going to go for less freedom of expression. I will get the Internet to buy me a roll of duct tape so I can tape my mouth shut because really? It has gotten me in too much trouble this week. This is the case every week, but this week in particular. I cannot give you details on EVERY MISTAKE I MADE ALL WEEK LONG that involved my large mouthy-mouth, but let’s just say, if your older kid goes to private school, and you’re too good to go to our low-rent public school, but oh, you’re not too good to swoop down on our free preschool AND THEN TELL EVERYONE “OH, WE’RE JUST HERE FOR THE YEAR, THEN WE’RE OFF TO CHI-CHI PRIVATE SCHOOL UP THE STREET…”
(May I just say, the district erred in allowing her in. Recognized their error, called her and said, “Whoops.” And she refused to back down. They were trying to re-neg, dammit, and she would not. Have. That.)
And ON TOP OF THAT you then TRY TO FIGHT ME FOR ONE OF THE PRECIOUS MORNING SLOTS because “I work OUTSIDE of the home…” (She works two fucking mornings a week. Two. I work seven days a week, people, because I not only am trying to please all of you, but yes, I write freelance and edit, too… And also, there are the kids. They require a large amount of care and refuse to be ignored.)
And then, Chi-Chi Girl, you ask me to provide daycare for your child, because you cannot be troubled to get your sorry ass to school to pick up little Lord Fauntleroy, and you assume I babysit to pick up extra cash to, you know, support my meth addiction and… where was I going with this?
Please, Chi-Chi Girl from the fancy neighborhood up the street, you really did not want to get on my bad side, the way you did. Just sayin’.
Thank you. OK, I’ll install a PayPal button soon so y’all can buy me a few rolls of duct tape. I need ‘em.
PS — Yes, we got a morning slot, in spite of Chi-Chi Girl’s machinations. Ooooh, big word for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.