Plus One: Dohnno Momma, dohnno.
Me: Hmmm, try to think of something.
Plus One: Watch Thomas the Train? [smirk.]
Me: Oh right. I could put this up (probably without acknowledging that I saw it over at Us and Them like a month ago):
Plus One: Ohhhno. Thomas the train sleeping!
Me: Avert your eyes, my child.
[to T9]: What about you? Have any suggestions for today's blog post?
T9: mah-bababa-MAH! [puke.]
Me: [referring to baby decoder ring.] Hey, listen, I was just trying to help you poop. But fine, I'll promise the Internet that I'll never massage you with a dough ball. It's not like I was going to try it...
It does look nauseating, doesn't it?
Me: [Dramatic sigh.] Guess I'll ask the furballs. [Chases cats around the living room, hands out for catching purposes.] C'mon you little bastards, I just want to TALK!
Fluffy Shit: [Hides under couch, claws positioned for removing my eyeballs.]
Me: Fuck you, cat.
[Texts husband]: Writer's block, yo.
Husband: What? I'm busy. At work. You know, WORK.
Me: MY BLOG!
Husband: I don't have time for this. WE DON'T HAVE A DOG.
Me: [Curses fucking fat fingers.]
So I've exhausted my sources of inspiration slash material, kids. What now? I am probably going to Wal-Mart tomorrow, so that should bring a story or twelve. Other than that, my split personality keeps saying, "Ew, K. No one wants to hear that story." or "This isn't even funny" or "Yes, you can eat five cookies for breakfast. THEY HAVE SPRINKLES!"
Looks like you're up. C'mon. I spent my blog's life savings on you yesterday. Surely you can give me some material!? Have some questions for me? Song requests? Want me to design you a new blog template (ha, that's a joke)? Perhaps you want to know how I plan to pay for my
I don't care. I'm desperate. For now anyway. I'm fickle like that.