Today was my mothers 60th birthday. For the first time EVER Golden Child bought her a gift.
And she didn’t stop gloating about it. A framed pic of him and his chick and one of those fucking digital photo frames. With a remote. I mean, who needs a remote for a picture frame? Arsehat.
Oh and the thing was full of pictures of his world travels and famous people he has met and blah blah blah… I gave you fucking GRANDCHILDREN woman. I was there through your self imagined health scares and drove through the night with 3 children to be with you when your breast reconstruction went pear shaped.
Where was he? Yeah, I dunno either.
Anyway, she was all ‘just get me bubble bath, I don’t need anything’ Damn Right you don’t need anything woman in your freaking McMansion. But nooooooo, I ain’t falling for that shit. No martyr moves gunna be made today lady.
So I went out and spent far too much money on presents and bubble bath and a fucking 30 buck baked cheesecake.
Yeah, I have issues. A lot. Click here for a little taste, I don’t wanna get into it today. Cause I just got an email from Jenny with this attached:
“Hey chica! Thought you’d enjoy! You at Guy’s house.
Guy you ask? If you have been living under a rock (and apparently like me, not cool enough to make it to AllTop, I mean what the fuck, Guy? Where did I go wrong? Is it the potty mouth or the awesome shoes or the newly acquired ‘not safe for work filters to allow through’ fuckity fuckness? Add me already. Oh and I want my own freaking category: ‘Awesome chicks that don’t fit in your damn pigeon holes’… um, please???) and if you don’t know who Guy is, check him out here…
I called MPS over. ‘Hey see that hot chick? That is The Bloggess and she is like an uber blogger. Almost as awesome as me’
‘Now that is pretty freaking awesome then!’ is what he said in my head. In reality it was something like ‘Yeah, get on with it woman, I am burning the dinner that YOU were supposed to cook but were too fucking lazy to get off your arse to do. And while I am at it, when are you gunna peel your arse off that chair cause I am thinking your skin may have grown around it…’ or something.
I flicked my hair in his general direction. A sort of fuck you for when the tiny echolalic terrorist is around.
‘See that bottle of wine? See my pic? See what she wrote?’
He glared at me. I guess thinking that would hurry me the fuck up or something. Meh, almost as many years as you get for murdering the bastard and he still hasn’t learned. Idiot.
‘Do you know which Guy she is talking about? Guy Kawasaki.’
Before he hit the floor in a dead faint of ‘fuck, my wife IS that awesome, I bow to her and will never complain about her playing with her imaginary blog friends’ I heard a faint whisper of ‘Guy Kawasaki….‘
Damn right fucker. I partied with my girl Jenny and your idol. Suck on that. Now get off the damn floor and clean the kitchen.
If you are at BlogHer and have pics of me with you, send them to me and I will totally whore you out on my blog. And if you are not there and wanna take pics of yourself in compromising positions with one of my pics email me at take.me.to.blogher at gmail dot com and I will send them to you…