The Sad & the Pathetic: Issue 51

Bonjour my little Beauties,

	I have just emerged from the shower. Mmmm. . . the thing is I smell like a huge mango. I’m not
 much of a fruity person, but I keep getting that basket with with shower gel and moisturizer and
 body scrub, etc, etc. As soon as I get rid of it, someone gives me another set. They’re always mango
 too. But I had a great shower and I was singing loudly. Did you hear me? Oh, good. I’ve decided to be
 reckless and carefree today and not brush my hair, so when it dries it should be quite scary. 
	I’m sitting at the pivot in our house so that I have the benefit of hearing exactly what goes on
 in two other rooms: the kitchen, and other den. My father is washing dishes and cussing under his
 breath. He’s watching the newshour which basically consists of really ugly old people who find
 stocks and politics the manna of their lives. Not only is it on in the kitchen, but also the den. So I
 have snoozefest in surround sound. Yippee. *twirling finger*
	Yesterday was my dad’s 234th birthday. Okay, okay. . . so I’m exaggerating, but only by 173
 years. He drove to Shreveport on his birthday because he forgot when he made the appointment that
 it was his birthday. How do you do that? I mean I forget all kinds of things. . . what area code I’m
 in, what my phone number is, my name. . . but only because they change so often. Really. . . what can I
 say? Sometimes I forget to turn around to ‘Sugar Momma’. It happens to all of us. Now Shreveport
 is about 3 hours away. About half way there he thinks to himself. . . “I hope I remembered my atm
 card” so he reaches back and realizes that . . . *dun dun dun* . . . he doesn’t have his wallet. In fact,
 he has to borrow money from the buyer to take her out to lunch and buy gas for driving back. Now
 that is smooth. When I heard this I laughed really hard for a good ten minutes. Nothing like
 starting off seniority with senility. Life is a beautiful thing.
	Speaking of forgetfulness, I forgot Sara’s birthday. I bought her a card about three months
 ago anticipating it. I knew it was in May. . . just not the day. Happy Birthday, Freakazoid. You’re
 now legal. You too can sit at home on the weekends and instead of thinking. . . I can’t go to ____
 because I’m not old enough. . . . to. . . Why would I want to go to _____, I’d rather stay here. Viva
 le Lame! Don’t worry though, it’s okay to be lame, because the lame shall inherit the earth. . . . 
	On the way home from Chicago, I stopped in Springfield, IL to visit some cousins. Technically,
 my mom’s cousin, Tom,  and his wife, Ellen. The coolest people you’ve ever met or could ever meet.
 They get their coolness from me. Allora. . . the first day I’m there Tom comes home from work says
 we’re going grocery shopping and tosses me the keys. I’m driving. They have a play car for sunny
 days and great weather. I’ll describe it for you. . . it’s little, it’s red, it’s a convertible. . . it’s a
 fiat spider. Ohhh. . . soo sweet. For the four days I was there they let me tool around in this car. I
 was the COOLEST chick in Springfield. Hell, I was the coolest chick in Illinois. Tom was trying to
 tell me that kids love this car, but you just don’t understand till it happens to you. One day I pull
 up at a stop light next to a school bus. . . I hear some kids yammering away. . . then. . .”Hey Lady! . . .
 Hey Lady, I like your car!”. . . or later. . . “Hey lady, I could drive your car.” Now that sounds like a
 great idea. You know. . . I should have brought Carrie with me. After all. . . in five or six years
 these kids would be in the right age limit for you to date. Nothing wrong with getting them young,
 right? Ready to mold and manipulate. 
	
Well I need to write one about Chicago, but I have to think about how to do it. 

Everyone tell me what you’re doing for the summer!

*huge hugs*
ci vediamo
-Mare

Pick-up line of the day:
Were you in Boy Scouts? Because you sure have my heart tied in a knot.