So I know there are more famous and noteworthy people out there than Jenny Lawson, aka, The Bloggess- my favorite blogger in the universe. And who inspires my blog. But I should also blame her too for the number of times I need to pay the swear jar– she uses the ‘F’ word a lot, and now I do too. Kind of like when you hung out with a kid in middle school who swore a lot and it rubs off on you because you want to be cool like them. That’s like how my ‘relationship’ is with Jenny.
It’s Sunday morning, we should be at church. We haven’t gone in awhile. Thankfully, I’m Lutheran and I’m not plagued with a whole lot of guilt. Not the church kind anyway. James was raised Catholic. I don’t know how guilty he feels. He probably is feeling really guilty too right about now. He went to the Judas Priest concert last night, parked his car on the street- not in a garage, and spent the night at the hotel on the corner with his brother so they didn’t have to drive home late. This morning when he went to his car, two windows were smashed and his car charger and sunglasses stolen. Suck it.
He is feeling really sorry for himself. I’m not going to say “I told you so” for not parking in a garage over night. Bad things happen in garages too. I’m not going to say, ‘well, if you had come home last night and we went to church this morning, that would not have happened.’
I’m going to make him a latte, and some coffee cake and serve it with a smile. While he’s on the phone with the insurance company my world is rocked in a different way….
You would have thought the President called me, or Taylor Lautner rang my doorbell the way I acted. I needed a Valium or Xanax stat. Neither of which I have. I’m thinking a Benadryl is the strongest stuff in my medicine cabinet. Is 10:30 on a Sunday morning too early for a shot of Maker’s Mark? That would do the trick…
Anyway, I had put a picture of my pumpkin carving of Beyonce the metal chicken on the Bloggess’ Facebook page. A lot of you know who Beyonce is. The metal chicken, not Jay Z’s wife. Owen told me, it doesn’t look that good because most people don’t know what metal chickens are supposed to look like. And if it was just a rooster, than people would know what it is. I was proud of it anyway and put it on the porch with the other pumpkins (angry birds, and Emma’s salute to Steve Jobs with an Apple pumpkin).
When James was talking very important things like deductibles, window repair and such to the insurance agent, I was freaking out because The Bloggess clicked ‘like’ on my photo, THEN wrote ‘LOVE’ in the comments. Cue trumpets! Cock a doodle mother fucking doo!!
Okay, she’s probably just being polite. Like when someone gives you a painting of a clown, and you say, “why thank yooou, how nice of you”. In that sing songy voice.
Things are already starting to slow down, my pulse has recovered.
The car will get fixed, the children will go about their day like mom is a crazy person, and I will bask in my glory that I felt like the cool kid on the block for about 10 minutes.
Next year, I’m carving Copernicus the Homicidal monkey on my pumpkin…