I make my husband do stupid things, and pretend it’s for “us”.

You see this picture?

hot mix

I forced my husband to take it for me today while we were on our way to the airport. I spotted this dump truck with these hilarious words on the back,  and started laughing. I threw my phone at him and started screaming, “TAKE A PICTURE! MAKE SURE IT’S CLEAR”! Then I told him it was for our safety that he was taking the picture. Since I was driving I would probably crash us into another car, and we would all die in a fiery explosion. It was better this way. Better for him if he just did what I said.

He didn’t ask why I wanted the photo. He just started snapping pictures like crazy. He did not ask a single question. That says a lot about our marriage. Probably that he knew I was going to do something stupid with the picture, and couldn’t wait to laugh at my stupidity.

And I’m okay with that scenario.

OR, that I was going to do something GENIUS with it. It was the first thing. I made a stupid post to Facebook so all of my friends could laugh. I was practically dancing in my seat the whole time.  Here’s the super awesome hilarious joke that I posted on Facebook for my friends and family:

hot mix
My mix tape so vicious. I had to get a dump truck just so I could drop that hot mix on ’em. OH!   

This literally made me laugh for an hour with tears streaming down my face. I do not care if anyone else finds it funny. I do not! I’m putting it on my fridge.

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False eyelashes, sexy super model hair, and other things I don’t have.

I have been lied to many times in my life, but a few key times stand out. They are what I would call character building if I had character. I don’t, so I’ll just say these people aren’t on my Christmas card mailing list.

I once mistakenly thought false eyelashes were a good idea.

They were not.

I sat in front of my computer watching a Youtube video, promising me it was super easy to stick that shit to my face and smolder. Not in those words, but that was the gist I got. I followed that shit to a T….and glued my damn eyes shut, but I smoldered like a fucking model while I stumbled around my house trying to figure out how to get them unstuck. I shoulda snapped a selfie to commemorate them sexy lashes, but alas, my eyes were needed to find the phone. It’s okay, I had one of my kids describe how awesome I looked.  Apparently, I was a cross between a princess and glittery unicorn.  I don’t do that anymore. Youtube is a liar.

I once thought I had sexy super model hair.

I was whacked out on the goofballs from the oral surgeon.

I kept making reference to my husband “taking my roughly against the counter” at the oral surgeon’s office while he was paying out. It was awkward for everyone but me. I kept whipping my hair around like a sassy super model and giving my husband the smolder face. He was uncomfortable by how sexy I was and had to look away from my smolder before he became overcome with lust. Once the goofballs wore off, I found out I was drooling down my face, shirt, and on the reception counter at the oral surgeon’s office. My husband had to turn his back on my several times to keep from laughing in my face, and peeing in his pants. And, my favorite, my hair was a tangled mess the entire day. I looked like a psycho and NOT a Victoria Secret model. The goofballs had lied to me.

According to a lot of people around me while I was growing up, young ladies were not like me, and ones that were didn’t have gentleman suitors.

Young ladies were not garbage-y, didn’t use swear words, actually brushed their hair, and were like princesses at all times.

. It was like I crawled out of a dumpster, and found a family of normal people to terrorize with my uncouth foulness. I was a real life Garbage Pail kid. There was no end to my grossness.  I would die alone under a pile of cats and old craft magazines….NOPE. I’m living proof that there are men with weird taste in women and really low standards in both beauty and etiquette. I mean, I did once get a hairbrush hung in my hair and after trying for maybe five minutes to get it free, just gave up and spent the rest of the day with a hairbrush hanging from my head. My mother took pity on me and saved me.

I once believed in Santa Claus.

I still do.

Don’t try to ruin that shit for me with your non-believing bullshit. That’s how you end up with coal and you know it. You’re just trying to ruin it for everyone else.

In summation, Youtube, goofballs from the oral surgeon, busybodies, and people that don’t believe in Santa can all go kick rocks.