I’m sure you’ve all been staying up nights fretting over what the hell is so damn important I could possibly be dragged away from my beloved pastime of insulting, belittling, disrespecting, and generally singing my own praises by comparison to the general public’s incapacity to meet my standards. Or even dress themselves properly. And there’s no doubt you’ve longed for run-on sentences that take two breaths to complete and require being read back to yourself, aloud, to make any sense of as well. Normally I wouldn’t feel overly compelled, if inclined at all, to explain my actions to anyone. But since in this case it means talking about myself, turns out it’s your lucky day…
Part 1 – Pooh and Kitty have been very ill. It’s pure coincidence this occurred at the same time, life is just fun that way. Sadly, we lost Kitty in December. After much deliberation Mr. Fefa decided he was ready for a new cat because hey, who doesn’t want something to just walk around the house and occasionally spit up on things? So off to Petco we went, and returned with…two cats. Normally I would have fought this, but on this particular adoption Sunday they were offering a two for the price of one deal. Which, is a good deal, so two cats it is. He’s even gone so far as to actually name these two; ‘Ricky Bobby’ and ‘Goddamnit!’.
Pooh, on the other hand, was able to be saved for the nominal fee of 25 brand new pairs of boots. And counting. And if you’ve been here before, you can imagine what that tune sounds like. The good news is, she’s worth more than 25 pairs of boots - to me. And I’m masterfully adept at the art of financial masquerading to cover such expenditures. Let’s not kid ourselves here and act as if 25 pairs of boots wouldn’t have mysteriously appeared in fefa’s closet this past boot season otherwise. The bad news is, of course, 25 pairs of boots did not magically appear in fefa’s closet this boot season.
Appendage B – Work. Enough said.
Scene 3 – Over the past few months here I’ve taken on a rather large project. One that is both all consuming and life changing. I’ve dedicated myself to building an actual, real live, human being. It turns out it’s pretty expensive to just commission one, and it would totally impact my allowance, so I decided to just go ahead and get my own hands dirty. Or some other parts I’m not going to tell you about without you putting the money on the dresser first. So how about that, in addition to having impeccable taste and hair beyond words, I’ll bet you had no idea I was also capable of creating an actual human being, cell by cell, underneath a set of rock hard abs, did you? Sometimes, I even impress myself. Seriously, I could have been a rocket surgeon.
posted by Fefa @ 8:06 AM
9 Comments:
(Slowly reaching into my wallet and putting money on the dresser)
...So, where were we?
;)
We've missed you Feef, welcome back.
You do realize that this entire blog just became an example of "do as I say, not as I do", right? When the little savage asks about wild drinking and/or dating stories from Mommy's past, you'll be able to say, "and I've done it all, kid, so don't even think about trying to slide one by me!"
Seriously, congratulations! How soon before you know their sex? Or if they're twins? Will you have a naming contest on your blog? ;)
J - Putting two big bills outside a wad of ones won't cut it. I gots street smarts enough to do a count first now.
NG - I'm not so much concerned with the sex as making sure it's actually mine.
The naming contest isn't a bad idea - if y'all gots suggestions, holler. Or make a generous offer.
Hell, for the right price, I might even let you have your name tattooed on its backside, just like a cabbage patch doll.
They won't have to sneak anything past me. What with me being passed out drunk in the passenger seat on our way home from homecoming and all.
You did get smart. Crap.
"I'm not so much concerned with the sex as making sure it's actually mine. " Ok, that's fucking hilarious.
And when you pass out in the car, make sure there's no orange soda within reach. Seriously.
So what, I should just NOT bring mixers? These are kids I'm getting drunk here, if I don't bring soda how else will I water theirs down and bogart the good stuff for myself?
How about a compromise...yes mixers, but I'll keep a pair of American flag swim trunks on hand in case of emergency.
huge congratulations on your budding cells!! I expect to hear all of your gory symptoms, of course. (please tell me you've been retchedly sick, etc etc etc even if its just to make me feel better.).
a mini-fef is growing!
:)
Sarah's really excited to go shopping with you tomorrow. I guess she thinks this is the last time you'll be shopping for something other than boots that will fit your swollen ankles. See? 25 boots would have been wasted if you didn't save little peg-legs.
And maybe this time YOU will be the one throwing up while shopping...
25 pairs of boots could never be a waste, even if never worn. They would just add to the 'special place' where I like to sit, and surround myself with goodness, when I have really big, important things to contemplate. Like possibly moving my part to the left.
Good call, I hadn't thought of my possibly barfing this trip. Thankfully when I shop it's all a blur, sort of like when you can't remember the night of binge drinking before, so it's not something I would recall after...
I have been wondering what happened to you, Fefa.
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