I went to work and some really super awesomely great shit happened there - but I can't share it with you. Sorry. Well, wait - I will share THIS with you about work (shhh - don't tell ANYONE) - I totally wore my new shirt to work today:
That's right - GUNS 'n ROSES!! On the back of my shirt!! And you know that when I put it on this morning I was totally feelin' like a freakin' bad ass rocker chick. Nevermind that I actually purchased it at the State Barrel Race finals and I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a cowgirl shirt - but it was hot and I didn't feel like wearing my cagirl boots so I instead donned it like I was super kick ass rocker gal. And I was. And not one fucking person even commented on it. Not one. Fuck all y'all. Who sees someone in such a kick ass shirt and does NOT comment on how fucking rockin' it is? (To my lone reader from work - by my choice - in your defense I don't think you saw me - because I know you would have commented on how fucking cool I was in that shirt so the fuck all y'all doesn't apply to you).
At that same barrel race - I also bought this kick ass sun dress that's all embellished with sequins and bling and I am TOTALLY going to wear it with my cagirl boots. I don't know where I'm going in it yet - but trust me - I will wear that outfit at some point this summer. And I will feel like I'm 18 all over again. And I will stab real daggers into the eyes of ANYONE who gives me the stink eye when they see me in it. Kay? Just remember that. I used to have a shirt that said, "I AM the Sheriff" on it - Or maybe it said, "I AM the Law" - I cannot recall - but it was a skimpy little red thing with bling all over it - and I LOVED to wear it out to the country bars. That was back when I thought I was a really fucking hot 35 year old - well I was actually - and also I was single so it seemed appropriate to wear such a shirt. Then I got married and had child #3 and so I think the shirt got tossed in the trash. I really wish I'd saved it. Anyway - there I go again - off on a tangent of unknown direction and reason.
Then I did some other shit and blah blah blah and yada yada yada and then "DING" the goin' home bell went off - so I went home. Where I promptly changed clothes into my super kickass shorts I totally stole from Daughter #1 and headed out to take the flubbery beast for a walk. Well, not only did the beast go with, but so did daughter #1 AND one of my other sons (not the prodigal son - he was busy playing XBox - STILL - for the 198th consecutive day). YAY! Walking buddies! And my other son was actually the dog handler so I could walk freely and without his pain in the ass stopping to piss on every blade of grass he passed. And the dingbat daughter #1 - who is NOT a blonde - decided to ride a very small razor scooter - barefooted - on a 2 mile walk. She has blisters on her feet now - but I don't feel sorry for her because I told her it was a bad idea, but she is almost 15 and far smarter than I. Now she limps like a peg-leg pirate on a swaying plank. That's her problem. Not mine.
On the downhill stretch home, the other son challenges me to a race.
Him: Bleach blonde, I'll race you the rest of the way home - JOGGING.
Me: Oh hell no! You did NOT just challenge me?
Him: I did - GO!
Me: BRING IT PUNK - BRING IT!!!
So off we went - running, down a hill, my boobs flying up and then stretching low and getting saggier with each step. My giant - can't see any of my crow's feet - sunglasses bouncing up and down on my already crooked nose, threatening to break it with each step. But I did not stop - I ran my little heart out. And then it was so pathetic how much fucking faster than him I was, I had to hold myself back. I didn't want to embarrass him or hurt his feelings - and every now and again you have to let a kid win or be right - it's part of life - beat them or make them wrong 98% of the time, but 2% of the time - take the high road. So I slowed down my pace, quite a bit actually - I was shocked at slow he was moving - I damned near had to stop dead in my tracks to allow him to even catch up to me. Fucking kids. At one point I think I was even jogging in place to give the illusion that I was moving as fast as I could but he was still winning. The things I do to build kids' self esteem. I swear. I should get mother of the year award. I really should.
So now - I'm sore. And it's only been 3 hours. What.the.fuck? I bet I won't even be able to get out of bed in the morning. I think I might have dislocated my 4th vertebrae. Or bruised my tail bone. (don't ask).
Oh shit - here it comes - winner of American Idol - - - - -- oh fuck me. Lee. Second fucking year in a row that it's NOT the person it should be. That's okay Mama Sox - most winners of this show never go on to do a damned thing with their life (at least that any of us ever hear about) - you, on the other hand - I will see in concert within the year. I'm done with that show. Although I admit I did enjoy seeing Janet Jackson perform tonight. This Lee sings like SHIT. Awful. I swear I've heard him before. Whatever.
And now I just noticed I can't get my iPhone to power on. What.the.fuck. God Dammit. Ever since this fucking Lee won American Idol, my life's gone to hell in a hand basket. Thanks American Idol. For ruining my fucking iPhone. Fuckers.
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