Tuesday, October 25, 2005

It's tracksuit time!

Officially. Those of you who know me, this is your warning. Anyone who makes a reference to J-Lo will be shot without mercy. I will be wearing the green one, the turquoise one, the red one, the black one, the navy one, and yes, the orchid-colored one. Possibly even the magenta one. Fortunately, not all at the same time.

And yes, Dave, I will wear them with heels.

And no, none of them say "Juicy" across the ass. I feel a. My ass needs to ornamentation- it can stand on its own, and b. If you're going to stitch "Juicy" on your ass, you may as well tattoo "Hooker" or "Desperate for Attention from Random Lech- Really, I'm not Kidding- no seriously, Try me, I'm FREE" on your forehead.

There is a very cranky green bird on my shoulder, who is trying to test my pain and annoyance levels by alternately biting me on the ear, and then retreating either to that spot on my back that I can't reach, or the top of my head, where he gets tangled in my hair. When I finally grab him, he takes off flapping onto the floor, which luckily scares the bejeezus out of the cat. (Who is either a pacifist, a wuss, or just really, really lazy). Then I try putting the bird back in his cage and he screams and screams and screams.

I keep thinking,"This is what motherhood must be like..." However. I didn't have to incubate him for 9 months, and he's probably never going to wreck my car or bring home trampy obnoxious girlfriends wearing plasic miniskirts. Hm. On the other hand, while he will probably outlive me, he's certainly not going to be able to support me and stick me in a nursing home in my declining years.

Actually, I'm not sure if that's a negative, either.

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