Proof of Life

Since I am taking a medical/hurricane leave of absence from my illegal catering company, I decided I need to force myself back on to society and give the old blog some love.

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What in the fresh hell is the deal with face tattoos these days? All the kids are listening to this guy, Post Malone.  Scary, isn’t it!  I actually looked up all his google images to see the progression of his face art and my heart broke for his mother each time a new tattoo appeared. Can you even imagine?!  Nothing would bring me greater sadness than my son walking through the door with the words “Always Sleepy” permanently inked below his eyes. I mean, I get it.  I literally am always tired. But I can just tell you that straight up verbally with no tattoo needed.  One time my sister died her hair purple with Kool-Aid and you would have thought she had sold her body for drugs my mom was so crushed.  Poor Mrs. Malone.

If you’re like me, you probably have no idea who Post Malone is.  I don’t even know how I know who he is.  Grant was recently so disappointed in me because I didn’t know who anyone was who was performing at Coachella this year.  I used to be pretty up to speed on the hot current artists and go to lots of concerts.  Now I only listen to Fifth Harmony on Pandora when I exercise and Barney on road trips.  I am about as basic as they come these days.

I was on a bachelorette party in Nashville last month and we signed up for a spin class.  I was a little hungover but ready to sweat out my headache.  Then they turned all the damn lights off and started bumping A$AP Rocky and other such rap artists I have never heard of.  Even though I felt like I was going to have a panic attack because I was locked into my pedals and spinning in complete darkness, it made me giggle to envision the 46 all white women bachelorette attendees (different parties) getting their exercise to the soothing sounds of really hardcore racial rap music that we have no business trying to sing along to. 

I have a tip for you.  If you ever want to feel like a total asshole, get a facial after a natural disaster.  I went to see my regular person last week and you can only imagine what a jerk I felt like while she told me about her brother’s house that was completely underwater, as she jade rolled my adult acne.

I wonder if I don’t blog anymore because I might be running out of things to complain about?!  My kids sleep through the night, I am done with cribs and morning naps, and Katie only has accidents 3 times a day and always on upholstery.  It’s funny that my kids like to dress up in my clothes.  I guess because I am old and have the wonderful responsibility of holding keys and driving and all that luscious stuff I used to covet as a kid, that they think I’m cool.  Little do they know I am the world’s worst dresser.  

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Did I ever tell you about the time that I unknowingly wore jazz shoes to the first day of my first ever real job?  I also paired them with tapered, pin striped pants and I really think I thought I looked chic and professional.  I am not exaggerating when I saw that my sister’s jaw literally dropped when she saw me after work that day.  It was a visual crime against humanity.  I need a stylist. Did I also ever tell you that my first real job was at the DC headquarters of 1-800-PackRat...and that I answered the phone 100 times a day saying, "1-800-PackRat, this is Marilyn.  How can I help you?"  My parents were so proud.

So…that’s what’s new with me these days.  Power has been restored.  Internet works about an hour every day.  Sanity and emotional stability are still in question but everyone is powering through and trying to help those affected by the hurricane.  We are definitely lucky compared to many in surrounding areas.  I hope everyone is well!

Until next time…