The Beautiful Kind

Some miscellaneous notes from the holidays:

- My guy got a GUN HOLSTER from his dad as a gift. It’s an accessory to go along with the gun his dad got him when he graduated. I swear a shooting range is a straight man’s gay bath house. Naturally I was having a liberal fit on the inside, especially when his stepmother told my daughter, “Guns are GOOD!”

But then I decided the holster will go well with our handcuffs and maybe we should step up the role playing a notch. Instead of me just wearing school girl skirts and asking for a better grade, I think he should rape me at gunpoint.

- Because they know I’m a sexually liberated woman (they know I have a vibrator and fuck their son), I got a Playboy watch. It was a very sweet gesture, but I guess they think sexually liberated means I should advertise for a softcore airbrushed magazine. I would have preferred a subscription to Hustler.

- Because I was hanging out with normal people, I was forced to watch television. I really fucking hate commercials and that Caesar dogwasher/trainer guy who doms dogs by shushing them. I also hate how National Geographic has decided to go all hip and refer to themselves as “Nat Geo,” as in, “only on Nat Geo” (said in a “sexy” tough guy voice.)

- The holiday lights at the house we were staying were fun and festive, but after about four hours the frantic blinking started to get to me. But not as much as the mechanical Santa who was waving a candle and clicking menacingly.

- My daughter got all those godawful cheap annoying toys made in China. I tried to convince her to donate them unused to Goodwill, but she wouldn’t have it. So as soon as she wasn’t looking, I filched the batteries from the beeping electronic gadgets and used them for my vibrator.

- My daughter hated the dead turkey sitting on the dining room table and kept squirming uncomfortably and had trouble eating her mashed potatoes and corn. I guess I overdid it with her and the whole compassion thing. I need to desensitize her - maybe take her to a morgue or find some roadkill and slap it on the table so she gets used to carcasses lying around.

- The highlight of the holiday: The Beau was frontin’ about nixing the Jar of Whimsies. He got it for me!

Him = dreamy
Me = spoiled brat