Some days things just seem oppressive. There are piles everywhere. There's a suitcase, a backpack, 5 pair of shoes and trash bag piled near the front door. The calendar is full. There is no clean silverware. You get a migraine. You get your period (which should really have a catchier name like meningitis or something that describes how you really feel.) You catch the dog eating a transformer, eating a cough drop or actually hear that little bugger peeing in the hallway. (Important factual note: Chihuahuas are not descended from wolves as previously thought but from goats!) You've got one ear on the dog, one eye on the muddy boy in the bathtub and you're starving but there's nothing to eat but crackers and mustard (which ain't so bad, by the way.) This is what happens when things kind of get away from you. It's when naps and life collide, and it isn't kismet, baby.
Why would I want wings on my pads? I'm sure NASA came up with the breathable super absorbent fabric, but really, why would I want plastic on the outside of my underwear? I prefer to just take my chances.
You know those hats that are supposed to be packable and they don't wrinkle? Well I call bull-shite! They do get big wrinkles that are never coming out and the brim is all fucked up.
Tom's of Maine, I love you cause you got the right idea, but I'm having some issues with you. That lemongrass deodorant? I love the way it smells, but not when it's mixed with the smell of my sweat. That lavender mint toothpaste? I want to adore it, but I've licked better tasting ashtrays.
I've pegged the worst drivers on the road, and their vehicles are marked. All you have to do is look for the handicapped plates. That's right, I don't discriminate. Handicapped people appear to be the worst drivers. Why are they always right in front of me? Why are they always driving so slow? See that pedal on the left? That's the brake. Get your foot off of it. Want to change lanes? Then quit dicking around and just do it. You don't have to be a chess master to think a few steps ahead. And of course my mind immediately goes where it shouldn't. Just what kind of handicapped are you? "Are you a slow driver?" "Oh my, yes." "Have you ever won a game of checkers?" "I don't think so." "Well, here you go...one handicapped license plate."
If I'm gonna make a shit list then I gotta throw on the CDC and Dr. Nancy Sniderman. You people got it all wrong. I will never listen to a thing you tell me. Please don't send the black helicopters.
Did I mention I have a headache? I'd love to throw in an affirmation here so you know that I am spiritual at heart and not all bad, but it just would come off as trite today. I'll hit you up with a good one tomorrow when I can really mean it because this too shall pass. God and me, we're tight. Tonight I'm just kinda feeling like Scarlett O'Hara. "I won't worry about it today. I'll worry about it tomorrow."
If you can smell me, you're standing too close. If I can smell you, you should take a break from Tom's of Maine.
PS: See that picture in the header bar with the title? I've titled it "Mom smells baby". What say you? Catchy, huh?