This week, I made a huge step that may go down in history. I created fire! I’ve never had a fireplace before, so I was really scared. Not for me, but for everyone in my house. I knew to open the flue, and it wasn’t real wood, so I didn’t figure it could go too wrong. We do have a gas fireplace, but I wouldn’t dare mess with the gas. With all of the bad luck accumulated in this house, that could only end poorly. I light the paper around the fake wood like stuff, and after a few moments of fear, we watched as a beautiful fire lit up the living room. I held my hands above my head and stood tall shouting “I HAVE DISCOVERED FIRE!” The way I remember it, everyone in the house bowed to me, then clapped and cheered and called me a goddess, but occasionally my memory deceives me. It’s possible that they never actually used the word goddess, I suppose.
One day this week I decided to dress super cute to school. Since I barely fill an A cup (my only aesthetic flaw), I wanted to wear my good push up bra, but I couldn’t find it in my room. I had already taken my night shirt off, so I wasn’t about to put a different shirt on just to find my bra outside the bedroom. I put my hands over my depressingly tiny boobs (if you would like to donate to my boob fund, let me know, I need a few thousand dollars for that), and I went out in the house to find it. I knew Brother wouldn’t be out in the house, so I wasn’t worried. Fiance saw me and just kind of rolled her eyes, since she’s used to it, but Mom was shocked. I asked if anyone had seen it, but of course they hadn’t. I never did find it that day. I had to wear my other bra, which is super comfy, but my boobs did not look as lovely.
Fiance and I are planning a photo shoot that involves us being somewhat close to each other and making serious faces. We are both just gigglebots, so we decided to randomly practice in the hallway. She ended up on the floor because we kept laughing so hard. She held her arms out to me, so I sat down in her lap, where we continued laughing like lunatics. At some point I was trying to lick her face I guess, because she’s soft like a baby. Not that I lick baby faces, that would just be weird.
Mom went on a “friend date” this week with a guy friend she met on the internet. I wasn’t really that worried, but I wanted her to be alert and scared in case he did turn out to be like the Craigslist Killer, so I kept saying things like that he was going to rape and murder her. Fiance said she wasn’t worried about that, but she was scared he would take Mom and keep her in a dungeon. When he showed up to pick her up, I let Cyanide sniff him out rather than interrogating him myself. She didn’t like him. She didn’t hate him, but she didn’t like him. That usually indicates extreme stupidity or doucheyness.
Yesterday, I was talking with Husband about taking sexy pictures of myself. He said something about how I can’t be sexy. I should mention, I’m a very goofy person. Not goofy like your regular silly sexy girl, more like the Disney character, Goofy. I gasped loudly and said “I’m sexy in pictures where you can’t see my personality! I’ve got all of this sexiness, my personality just gets in the way!” It’s very true. I may also be a bit conceited. The same day, I was trying to tell mom how to talk to men, and how you have to be a little direct sometimes to get a point across. She said “I can’t! I’m not mean like you!” Thanks, Mom.
Since our house is the only one on this street with a big beautiful tree, our yard is the only one that was not visible after the freeze because of all of the leaves on the ground. I got tired of it and decided to sweep the yard, since I don’t have a rake. The adorable little old man next door saw me sweeping my yard with a broom, and he brought me the ricketiest looking rake I’ve ever seen. He said “it’s not much of a rake, but it’s better than a broom if you want to borrow it.” My heart melted. I love little old men.
It’s nearly Christmas. I love presents as much as the next person, but I’m kind of a Grinch. I hate Christmas music, and looking at other people’s decorations, and how everyone goes broke trying to impress everyone else with the gifts. I hate how we MADE UP a Birthday for Jesus that isn’t even in the right SEASON, and how we change the story up to make it more festive. I hate the stress in the air and how everyone is so uptight and grumpy while they yell about the reason for the season in your face. I really hate the Santa lie. I don’t hate it enough to tell people they shouldn’t do it, because it really depends on the kid, but I was furious with my parents because I stopped believing in Santa when I was like three, but I played along to make a point until they finally told me, then I stayed mad for about as long as I possibly could. I hate Christmas, and I feel like you all should know that. I get kind of bitter in December.
Enjoy the picture of the fire that I created like a caveman, if cavemen had had lighters, and of me proving that I’m pretty sexy in photos. Until next week, behave! Santa is coming and it’s almost Jesus’ birthday and reindeer can fly and I’M A ONE EYED ONE HORNED FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATER. Bah humbug.
Here’s the link to Mom’s blog. Don’t forget to see the other side of the story!
http://ryterrong.wordpress.com/2013/12/13/murder-dungeons-and-face-licking/
Fiance has started a blog, too, so check it out!
http://theotherdaughterofshe.wordpress.com/2013/12/14/theyve-sucked-me-in/
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