About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
I think I kind of look like a Gouda Gold
Damn you, snow! We were trying to throw a New Year's Eve party but now the people who were on the fence about driving up to Mulletville have climbed down off the fence and snowshoed back to their cozy homes to ring in the new year without us.
The cheese stands alone in Mulletville, my friends. So...very...alone.
Back to New Years. Since I don't do resolutions, I have four simple requests for 2009:
1) That it stop snowing so damn much.
2) That my birthday, which is in three days and for which Chuck and I have planned a date night, is more titillating than Date Nights I and II. (Would you rather have a quick synopsis? Date Nights I and II involved beer, Lens Crafters, Hell Boy and an 80-year-old named Corky. If we don't top that, well, I can't even go there. We will top that.)
3) That Junior start using the "l" when he says clock and the "r" when he says fork, lest people start to think he is being raised by perverted truckers.
4) That Chuck heartily accept his new role as a stay-at-home dad and that he greet me at the door with homemade dinner whilst wearing something sexy. And by sexy I don't mean skanky (there's a huge distinction, you know). And he better not start complaining about how we never talk anymore while I'm trying to enjoy my after dinner brandy. So annoying.
I think that about covers the necessities. If you find yourself up this way (we're just past the goat farm and grain store), feel free to stop in.
Happy New Year!