Dude. My mascara rocks.
Handbag full of tear soaked tissues.
Red raw nose from the drippage.
Mascara, liquid eyeliner and eyeshadow fresh as when I applied them.
The funeral was wonderful and terrible and lovely and fucked up.
There were two camps. His family and hers. She refused to acknowledge us. She made it all about her. Her family would have spit on me if they could. Meh.
I was going to talk about her but no. I never ever have to see or speak to her again. Suffice to say, I came home from the funeral, drank myself into a stupor and slept for 14 hours.
I haven’t slept that long since I was a teen.
Something I found out while we were sitting around reminiscing is we are related to a pirate.
A FUCKING PIRATE!
How awesome is that? Maybe not as awesome as Ninja, but those fuckers don’t do no family tree. Too stealthy you see.
It is so a word.
I mean RRRRR!!! Me hearties.
Explains my potty mouth.
Dude, I can totally go and steal shit and carjack cars and blame it on genetics. Pirated DVD’s and the like are my freaking RIGHT as an ancestor. Damn. I can make a fortune!
And seeing MPS’s family is related to Pope Johnny, I can do whatever the fuck I want and great uncle Johnny can still get me through the pearly gates and escort me to my own freaking trampoline room.
I want a hook. And an eyepatch. And a freaking PARROT. Hmmm, wonder if I have any shoes suitable for my new status?
I am a freaking PIRATE. Beat THAT!
Oh and if this is not the most random fucking post I have ever written I will eat my hat.
My PIRATE hat.