the number 13

There’s No Place Like Home March 12, 2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — numbr13 @ 9:03 pm


Yesterday on my lunch break from work, I was cruising through South Seattle on my way to this amazing Japanese Burger joint called Katsu Burger when I got the first brief, fleeting thought that I had become comfortable here. I was driving along E. Marginal Way which hosts the enormous Boeing Plant where some of the world’s biggest and most impressive airplanes are made. I was a little freaked out because my entire drive past the Boeing plant took me through about seventeen green lights. Why didn’t Seattle want to slow me down? I decided that was pretty cool and drove fifteen miles over the speed limit, got my burger and went back to work.

I moved here eight years ago from Texas, an awful place no one should ever be forced to live. The Army had brought us here and we were excited because everyone always talked about how badly they wanted this duty station so we assumed it must be pretty cool. I didn’t expect that my life journey was going to end here far differently than it began. I arrived married to one man in a militant environment of law and structure and now I’m married to another man and life couldn’t be more opposite. I never assumed that this would be “home”. Ever.

I’ve lived all over the place. Different states, different countries, different continents. Home for me has always been the Gulf Coast, no matter where we were actually residing. Born in the Midwest and raised in he south and then planted in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve seen every inch of this country.

The Gulf will always have my heart. To a degree, it will always be home to me… Critters and flying cockroaches and sweltering heat, humidity that sticks your clothing to your body in obnoxious ways, shrimp and crawdads and sand, sand, sand. At night you hear frogs and crickets. During the day people move slowly, speak slowly, tranquilized by the heat. People stop trying to grow grass on their lawns and the smell of salt in the air gives you what little energy you have. Every day at precisely three o’clock, the heat breaks with flashes of lightning in the sky, the Gulf being the lightning capital of the world. Three blocks up the road you can see the rain beating down in a fury, desperate to cool the world off for just fifteen minutes a day. Then, the sun breaks through a deep blue and purple sky and the outside feels like the inside of an oven again. Literally, an oven. It can take your breath away.

The Pacific Northwest is a different kind of place altogether after you’ve lived and loved the south. Up here it is energy and diversity. It is every place you could go to in one little corner of the US. Twilight fans flock to Forks to see where all those vampires and wolves lived dramatic lives. Forks here is nothing much more than beautiful rain forests. Yes, we have rain forests. We also have big metropolises, vast plains, mountains, volcanos, orchards, valleys, even a desert. In July you can go white water rafting on Saturday and snowboarding on Sunday. You can hit the beach or walk Seattle’s marketplace. Go fishing in the morning and to the museum after lunch.

All the clichés are true, you know.

You love trees and coffee here. We’re fiercely loyal to our football team and to our basketball team that we don’t even have here anymore. People wear sandals and recycle because they actually want to. Composting HAPPENS. Everyone has a fire pit and if you don’t own an ATV then you have a friend who owns an ATV. What is a “Hummer?” Why would anyone actually drive that?

Yes, it rains. A lot. You learn how to drive at 70 miles per hour on the freeway without actually being able to see the lines in the road because the rain blurs them as it bounces off the pavement. Nine months out of the year. I freakin’ love it. Good ol’ Washington sunshine.

We’re a fairly peaceful people up here. In fact, when bad things happen, you see a lot of running jokes about how “Seattle riots”. People rebel by wearing their sandals without socks, or *gasp* jaywalking. Marijuana is legal here and the world didn’t instantaneously implode. Meth is the big killer here. Meth should just die.

My state is home to some pretty big companies…. Boeing, Microsoft, Amazon, Starbucks, Nintendo, Nordstrom… and we love our music. Jimi Hendrix, Mackelmore, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Sir Mix-a-lot… at the base of the Space Needle is the EMP, a music museum that is interactive and amazing. The Space Needle is the only thing in Seattle that I truly loathe.

The Space Needle sways.

I hate the Space Needle.

I like the way it looks, sort of like the Jetson’s posh apartments, but get me on the observation deck of that thing and you’re going to see someone go completely insane. The observation deck is about six feet wide and surely most of the people up there want to push me over the edge of it. The last time I was up there, security had to come deal with me because I had smashed myself up against a wall and was screaming at people. “Stay back! Don’t F***ing come near me! BACK, YOU MOTHERF***ERS!!!” I was a madwoman and will be one every single time I go up there, which is hopefully never, ever again.
It never dawned on me when I married my soul mate that I had just grown roots and that this was now my home. I had four children in four different places, three states and one other country but this…. this is where I built my family. This is where I gave that family to God, where I discovered who I am, where my strength comes from and what I can do with that strength. My body might have been squeezed out of a vagina in Ohio but this is where I was BORN.
Eight years and I finally found my place in the world. But, you’ll never get me to wear one of those god-awful Northface jackets. Nooooo, thank you.
Gotta run… my car needs to be charged and this coffee is going straight through me.
Night, y’all 🙂

Shame February 13, 2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — numbr13 @ 10:34 am

imagesG7VO2W01I’m sorry you had to see that, God. I’m sorry that you had to see me do that.

The closer I get to God, the more aware I am of the things I do that are displeasing. Words will come out of my mouth or I will put a simple verb into action and then suddenly I’m stuck…. I’m sorry, God. I’m ashamed. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I can imagine your head dropping. You eyes shutting. Your spirit sinking. I imagine you shaking your head. I love you Keira but what were you thinking?

I hate to break your heart.

All of this has an upside. In the past I would simply unleash myself on the world. I typically considered those around me and rarely did I ever want to hurt anyone although I have. Because I was in control and because I was the one that mattered, I had the ability to hurt without effort. I’m not dishonest enough to claim that this has been broken off  but I do believe it will be someday. I wonder sometimes if I will still be me, still be colorful and passionate and a little weird… but I know God will balance me and just make me a little better.

The shame I feel when I dishonor God is important because it helps me identify what I’m doing wrong. If I can say it and feel remorse then I’ll be aware of it before it happens and I’ll be able to prevent it. God is everywhere. He sees all. And, even though he  is enormously proud of me and loves me unconditionally I want to please him. I’m going to be praying on that an awful lot. But, I think the awareness he’s placing in me is a great start. You cannot fix what you don’t know. I want to let him fix me.

The Bible talks about the fruits of the spirit. I want good fruits… I want to bear good fruits and be someone approachable because I know God has a plan for my life and I know I need these to carry out his works.

But I feel ashamed at times. Then, I hear him tell me he forgives me and loves me anyways. And that is a miracle.


Writing is Therapy

Filed under: Uncategorized — numbr13 @ 12:21 am

I miss writing. I haven’t been in any of my blogs in so long and now I’m just all up on Facebook writing these six billion word posts. Twitter can’t handle me. They told me to stay away.  I wonder if I still remember how to blog. I certainly have no idea how I managed the thing… editing templates and inserting shit left and right. I’m old now so we’ll keep it simple.

I wonder how you upload a photo into this thing.


Oh. So that’s how. Alright then…

I really considered writing some big ass update but, really, the idea of doing that is freaking exhausting. Besides, anyone who reads this nonsense has probably been following me on Facebook and is fully aware of what my life is like. so, there’s probably no real need to recap and we can just move forward.

I have no intention of having any sort of theme to this thing. I write what I feel and since I feel nuts that’s what we’re gonna see here. I love my dysfunctional weird unstable amazing (yeah… there it is) family. It’s changed a bit since the last time I posted. In fact, I think I last posted in 2010 and that’s the year we added a new member to our family and a whole new adventure began. I’m gonna have to edit the profile up on this bitch.

As I so often do, I have gotten off track. Back to my intention to be random and manic on the internets.

I feel nuts…. yeah… so that’s what this will be. Some days it might be amusing observations or melodramatic outbursts or sincere musings… it might be a curse-filled tirade against some perceived injustice or it might be sappy declarations of love for God. A lot of the times it will be posts about my kids and the many, many ways they drive me crazy age me terribly send me into a meltdown bless and fulfill my life. Maybe this will regulate my Facebook posts into more appropriate tweets in 140 characters or less. But, I doubt it. I have enough mania for both.

If you’re reading… welcome and I’m sorry and grab your booze. If you feel compelled, you can leave comments and shit on my posts and we can build a deeply intimate and oftentimes entirely inappropriate relationship. If you’re easily offended then this is NOT the place for you. Move along and take that shit on over to iVillage. If you’re mean to me in the comments then I will cuss your ass out. Before anything else, I urge you to go up there to the tabs section and read my Disclaimer. Then, decide if you’re cool or if you’re an uptight asshole.

That is all. Good day to you.


Cake Diet February 1, 2010

Filed under: Eat Me,Tales of the Weird — numbr13 @ 10:54 pm

I am going to eat this fucking cake.

Yesssssss. The cake.

As I sit here waiting for a movie I have illegally downloaded to finish illegally downloading, I am staring at a chocolate cake thinking that I simply shouldn’t eat the thing but knowing I’m going to anyway. I have zero self-control when it comes to matters of cake and coffee and such. None whatsoever.

The southern roots I have invented for myself require that I eat a lot of things that are dipped in batter, deep fried and then slopped in either real butter or a healthy dose of mayonnaise. I am fully aware that this is going to give me a heart attack and, more obviously, make me huge. I’m usually quite okay with this up until the point where I actually see myself in a mirror and then I flip right the fuck out.

I’m a genius. I just want you to know this because I know it and it is because of my status as an élite intellectual that my first thoughts when I discover my huge-ness are to find the problem areas and then come up with a reasonable solution.

I am giving up the fancy, fattening coffee and am replacing it with this chocolate cake here.

Before you start to worry that I might go withering away or that I might have developed some sort of risky eating disorder stemming from intense, underlying social issue or a more politically acceptable Daddy complex I want to place your weary minds at ease and tell you that this cake has icing on it. Gobs of it. Just shitloads. I have even added extra icing to make up for the lack of flavored creamers I might normally indulge in. So… all is safe.

For the record, I have no inclination to puke this cake up once I’m finished annihilating it. It will stay safely tucked up in my intestinals until my morning coffee forces it out of my body. Did I just say “coffee”?

Because I meant bottled water.

Do you like bottled water? I can’t stand the shit. Honestly, I cannot muster up a desire for the ghastly junk. Perhaps if it were deep friend or slathered in mayo then I’d give it a spin across the dance floor. Bottled water. Yech. I tend to prefer my water with a teensy bit of high fructose corn syrup in it. Maybe add a little squeeze of synthetic coloring. Perhaps a splash of carbonation. Littttttle bit of cherry flavoring. That’s a mighty fine tasting water right there.

Maybe I might even add some extra water to my water, say… some smallish, frozen chunks one might nibble on?

And some grenadine.

I’m gonna get skinny quicker n’ shit, I tell ya.

Watch out, world.


An Open Letter To My Children January 31, 2010

Filed under: The Littles — numbr13 @ 12:11 pm

Dear children who’s asses I consider kicking on a daily basis but don’t out of restraint that I show out of love,

I am dumbfounded. This morning I witnessed something that disturbed me and has resulted in me writing you this letter. Owen called Matt fat and Matthew kicked Owen’s ass. When I sat the two of you down to discuss this and said, “Matt, why did you kick your brother’s ass?” I was completely grossed out by the ease in which Matt replied, “What, he called me fat.”

Are you freakin’ serious? How EASILY you justify hurting someone else. How COMFORTABLE you are by inflicting pain on another human being… a human being who also happens to be your brother. I am disgusted. I have been disgusted by these actions for a very long time.

I have a little news flash for you all:

We are ALL you have. That’s right… this is it. I have people who I went to kindergarten with and knew and hung out with until I left high school. I spent my entire lives thinking we were “friends”. Guess how many of them are my friends today?


You *think* you have some kind of army. You *think* you have friends and girlfriends but the reality is… they will be gone. By the time you are my age most of them won’t even remember your name. Maybe someday you will get married and share a love that is unmatchable but even THAT might not last. What you WILL have is your family. You will have each other.

If there is anyone on the planet you should honor with love and patience and compassion then it is each other. When your friends turn on you in high school or your husbands or wives walk out the door you will feel alone in the world and desperately seek someone to comfort you. You might look around frantically searching for someone who will just hold you or sit with you or listen… and you will find each other.

I cannot handle this anymore. I am staring to feel like frickin’ Mills Lane constantly trying to referee your stupid fights. I am sick of listening to you explain and defend yourselves when you hurt one another. I don’t care about your reasons. I don’t care that it was an “accident”. What I care about is how you can look each other in the tear-filled eyes and try to justify how you put those tears there.

What did we fight so hard for? Did we REALLY just go through two years of hell with each other just to destroy it? Why do you take this family for granted? How can you care so little?

God did not create us and place us together in the hopes that we would, one day, off each other. He put us together because He wanted us to nurture and support each other. I am sure that He is as heartbroken as I am when He hears how you scream at and threaten one another, how you belittle and demean, how you hurt and destroy.

What gets me the most is how easily you do it. You all act so justified as if you were left with no other option. When I speak to you about these behaviors you shrug noncholantly and act as if you had tried any number of remedies before being forced to lash out with your fists, which -BY THE WAY- is never a solution. I do not hear you speak to one another and say, “That hurt my feelings.” or “That makes me feel awful.” There is zero communication other than the words that come shrieked and shrill and on the knuckles of your hand.

I once did a little experiment for a week… perhaps you remember. For one week I allowed you each to pick each other’s punishments. If Owen drew on the wall with permanent marker I would ask Matthew to choose between three different punishments like GOING TO HIS ROOM, NO VIDEO GAMES FOR ONE WEEK and BEAT HIM WITH REEDS.

I spent that entire week feeling disgusted because each of you would choose the harshest and most disturbing punishment for one another. Then, you would laugh and heckle the second you knew someone was about to get it.

I am at the point where I need to just place you all on time out because if one of you gets put there then the rest of you just stand nearby and snicker at them. I have never seen such cruelty amongst loved ones. Never have I seen people truly enjoy the suffering of others so much, especially their brothers and sisters.

I have these fantasies in my head of just randomly snatching one of you out of thin air and whooping your ass until you cry and then locking you in your room with another sibling and forcing them to comfort you. I think of being as horrid as possible just in the hopes that maybe you will unite on the common ground of despising me. If I withhold food and water maybe you will band together with a plan to sneak some in the night and if I create a prison-like atmosphere for you then maybe you will engage in whispered plots to overthrow me. If it is mutiny that brings you together then so be it. This is how desperate I am to get you all to love each other as much as I do.

In reality I am left to continue to whisper prayers from my bed each night that God will soften your hearts to each other and make you see one another from His eyes.

In the Bible, Joseph was the eleventh of twelve sons and his brothers conspired to toss him into a pit, kill him and eventually sold him to merchants who enslaved him. Joseph grew up to become one of the most powerful men in Egypt and eventually rescued his brothers from famine. When he was reunited with his family he was a grown man. He had received his heartbreak in solitude, imprisoned and alone with no family and no support. No one fought for him. His brothers got to sit and watch the heartbreak of their father and spent their lives feeling guilty for what they had done. In the end, the prophesies were filled and those jealous brothers were forced to bow down to Joseph.

Talk about family drama.

That shit just ain’t gonna fly with me. So… you all had better do some serious thinking because if I EVER find out that one of you has sold another of you into slavery or swapped Emi for a valuable Pokemon card or something then you will begging the Lord to deliver you out of my wrath. FSHO.

Think about it.

Love, MOM


Letters To Santa December 2, 2009

Filed under: The Littles — numbr13 @ 10:47 pm
Tags: ,

Christmas Morning 2007

So, tonight was our annual sit-down to carefully compose our letters to Santa, a longstanding tradition that usually involves a load of lies and horseshit about excellent behavior mixed in with a cocktail of flattery and begging for the fat man to bring them junk the fat man cannot afford. It’s always a fun and enlightening experience that causes me many chest pains and a moderate amount of giggles.

Matt writes his own. Last year’s letter was so grand that when I accidentally left it out on my counter at work, my boss found it and cried from laughter. It had one piece of extraordinarily expensive technology on it after another with a finale that included a request for world peace. World-freakin-peace. Nice one, Matt. Even the optimistic, red-suited fat ass wouldn’t fall for that nonsense.

Owen and Olivia dictate their letters to me and I sort of attempt to make them understandable to some degree. I try to stick to what they say but at times I find myself having to edit things out because both of them seems to forget at times that they aren’t actually talking to Santa, that he is not in the room, and that he is unable to see them gesturing frantically as they say, “You know the one…. it’s about yaaaaay big and sort of the color of that shirt over there….”. Yup. Literary damage control.

This year, I decided that these letters to Santa are blog-worthy and that in order to truly humiliate them on a larger scale than wedding slide shows as adults, that I must preserve such nonsense via the internets. Thus, I give you…. my children’s letters to Santa.


“Dear Santa,

I am going to tell you a little about what I want for Christmas this year and about how I have been this year. Also, how I have not been if you’re doing this whole thing from that direction.

Now, I am going to tell you about how I have been this year. So far, I haven’t been all that great. I can admit this which I think adds a little something that you should consider about my character. Although I haven’t really behaved or anything, I am working pretty hard most of the time to do better. I think that if I keep this up I won’t have any coal in my stocking. I heard once that coal is really reindeer poop and I would like to know if this is true. But before you answer that, I want to make sure that your answer isn’t going to be considered one of my gifts and knock something else off my list sort of like when genies trick people with their wishes because if that’s the case then forget it. I don’t need to know that bad.

Now that we’ve gone through all of that stuff about me not really behaving but working hard to do it, here is a list of ten things I’d like for Christmas:

-Star Wars Force Unleashed Sith Edition
-Lego Star Wars Ship with Darth Vader Apprentice.
-Lego Star Wars Darth Maul set.
-A Nintendo DS. Mom says I can’t have a DSi because I lost my other one so I’ll just take the DS.
-Pokemon Platinum for DS.
-A pair of Vans.
-Pokemon Platinum Arceos.
-Pokemon Explorers of the Sky
-$50 gift card to Toys R Us. smaaaaaart.
-I ask for, last but not least, I want mom to have a great day and not get frustrated.



“Dear Santa,

My name is Owen and I am six years old. I have been very nice this year but only to my brother and sisters and to my friends. Okay, so some of the time. I was kind of good at school. Do you talk to teachers because my teacher tells lies and maybe you shouldn’t talk to her about this stuff. Actually, I don’t have a teacher. I was just kidding.

Santa, what do you think you could bring me? Do you think you could bring me some presents, please? I would really like it if you brought me:

-a new bike because Zach slashed my tires on mine.
-A PSP with Tony Hawk games because I really do like skateboarding.
-Oh yeah, a new skateboard because Joey and Jose stole mine and drew on it and took my trucks and broke it.
-a racetrack and car set.
-a helmet and pads for the skateboard because if I hit my head I won’t be able to do math anymore. Okay, maybe I don’t need that helmet for real. But maybe you should get it anyways because mom will want it and I can always carry it anyways.
-Spongebob Legos. I sure do miss Spongebob.
-Cable so I can watch Spongebob.
-a Spin To Win game because mom has one at work and I think it sounds fun.
-The Transformers 2 movie unless mom can illegally download one for me. Let me check with her first before you make me one.
-Star Wars lightsabers for my Wii-motes because that would be awesome.

Thank you, Santa!
Love, Owen”


“Dear Santa,

I am Olivia and I am four years old. I love you Santa and I miss you very much and I think you will like our Christmas tree very much. It is very pretty but Owen stuck Pokemon cards in it and you might get mad. Please know that that wasn’t me but Owen. It was Owen. Not Olivia.

I have been very good this year and my mom hasn’t had to spank me at all like whenever she tells me it’s time to go to bed and I do it. Santa, I would really like it if you brought me some presents and not coal. Last weekend I was bad but it wasn’t really anything too terrible so we can just not really remember that when you’re bringing me presents. It was only a little bit bad anyways. Ever since then I’ve been being good so I would really like it if you could bring me:

– a watch that is pink or purple.
-A Nintendo DS because I have never had my own like my brothers have and I won’t break it like they did so don’t get them one.
-A new Disney Princess Laptop but not a real one, I want the toy one.
-Some new painting stuff because my mommy likes to frame them and hang them on the walls if I paint them for her.
-a painting easles and some smocks to wear to keep my clothes clean.
-a bingo game.
-a kitten. I just love kittens and I want a white, fluffy one with a smushy face and I’ll just love her so much and sleep with her and kiss her and brush her and take good care of her.
-some new books with princesses and knights and princes and goblins and stuff.
-posters for my bedroom like Hannah Montana and Tinkerbell and some pretty ones.
-a new bed set where the pillows match the blanket and there is that ruffly thing so you can’t see under the bed and I want them all to be pretty and go with each other and be cute with my posters.
-three Bakuggan.

Goodbye Santa. I hope to see you soon and I love you and I want to give you a hug and I will pray for you that you don’t catch a cold because it has gotten very cold outside and Bella is sick, too.

Love, Olivia”


“Dear Santa,

My name is Emi and I am two years old. Santa. Ummmm. Bike. Ummmm. A monkey. Ummmm. Bunny. Bunk bed! Big girl bed! Ummmm. Go to bed. Ummmm. Monkey. A ducky! Ummmm. Red. Ummmm. Bunny. Santa. Yeah, red. Ummmm. Bunny. Ummmm. Toys. Babydoll with um baby bottle. Ummmmm. A baby blankie. I want a blankie for my baby. Yep. For my baby. My baby. A blankie. Yeah. I tell Santa.

Love, Emi”

I have taken their lists and will be making photocopies of them… for their scrapbooks, for me to giggle at over the years and a set so they can mail them to the North Pole.

I love watching them get excited… their eyes glitter. It makes me wonder how they’re going to react when they find out that their only parent has to work on Christmas Eve.

Hopefully, these letters make it to the North Pole… if so, all will be forgotten come Christmas morning 🙂


Love Is In The Air September 26, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — numbr13 @ 9:31 pm

I have recently discovered that they key to any good relationship is to simply have pretend ones with people who are, for the most part, completely unaware that they are involved in one. To ensure the imaginary relationship remains healthy and intact, you must be willing to sacrifice your sanity your own selfish needs and replace them with the selfish needs of your better (although non-existant) half.

After ten years of a completely stupid and totally legit marriage that was a complete waste of my emotional efforts, I am pleased and proud to announce that I am in stable and productive relationships with three men at this current time of my life even if these relationships are merely a manifestation of my inner psychosis and not really honest relationships at all. And… I couldn’t be happier.

I decided that the best approach was to merely wander up to any random guy and announce that we were now married, briefly explain the rules of this commitment and then sit back and reap the rewards. The result is that I have taken three extraordinary men, all very different from one another, and built some sort of super-conglomerate of awesome husbandliness. I am sincerely the luckiest woman on the planet.

Husband #1 is my Cookie Monster. Cookie Monster is a 21 year old Mormon Missionary. I am not allowed to touch him, speak inappropriately to him (although I do anyways) and I am only ever allowed on a date with him if he is accompanied by three other guys. It’s pretty awesome. We pray together and laugh and when my lawn mower broke he came over while I was at work and not only fixed the motherfucker but he also mowed my grass for me like a manly-man. One of his friends fixed my porch light. Such good, wholesome boys. I adore Cookie Monster even though he’s a Republican. We tease each other all the time and affectionately refer to each other as “Uptight Republican Asshole” and “Communist Hippie”. It’s terribly romantic.

Hubster #2’s name is Joey and he works down at Hot Topic. I see him on my smoke breaks at work. He wears skinny jeans and has holes in his face but he’s magical in the way that he can be romantic even when we’re casually discussing midget sex. He smiles a lot. Here he is smiling:


Joey is an angel sent from Heaven. Technically, I suppose I could do him but I don’t want to move too fast. We’ve only been mall-married for a month or so and I don’t want the relationship getting boring too quickly. I’ll never forget the day Joey and I got mall-married… he was outside on a bench smoking and I had just emerged from Starbucks after acquiring a beverage. We had chatted many times before but this time our eyes met over that ashtray thingy on top of the garbage can and I just knew it was time to make things more permanant. So, I said, “Hey Joey, ya wanna mall marry me?” and he said, “Well, yeah.” and I said, “Okay, then we’re mall-married now.” and he said, “Cool.”

Then, we consumated the marriage with a cigarette and a Frappaccino. It was beautiful.

Fun story: One day, me and my boss went to go visit Mall Husband at work. I was feeling a bit overdramatic and decided that I should stir things up a bit so I walked in and loudly accused him of neglecting me and then burst into hysterical tears and exclaimed, “is it that you are wanting a mall DIVORCE????”

“God, NO!” he exclaimed looking terribly offended and near tears himself. I immediately felt satisfied and more secure in our relationship and left because I had to go, hoping to meet up with Brandon, husband #3.

Brandon works down in Loss Prevention and he is smokin’ hot. Ask anyone. He’s seriously THAT hot. We got married a couple of weeks ago and he is a lovely addition to my collection as he is definately the bad ass husband. Every day he has a black eye or some other affliction after engaging in violent activities that I wish to stay out of. He has agreed to show his deep adoration for me by provoking someone to say something complimentary about my breasts and then beating the shit out of them in my defense. I think this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever insisted they might do if they ever find themselves drunk and with nothing better to do. I’m so touched.

Brandon informed me that if I mall-cheat on him he’s going to go ape-shit crazy and scratch my eyeballs out. Awesome! I’m sincerely enjoying juggling him and Joey and Cookie Monster. I know each one will be jealous of the other, especially C.M. The other day my sweet, missionary Husband overheard me tell another guy that he has a great smile and he exclaimed out loud, “you whore!” It was great. Jealousy is fun.

This is why my imaginary marriages work so well. I get to control and invent every aspect of the madness. It’s all make believe and we all know it. Real marriages have real feelings that can get really hurt. My marriages involve whatever I want them to and I don’t have to really give a shit. If one screws up, I’ll simply replace him with someone else, such as the dude down at the T-Mobile kiosk or that hottie that works at Hollister and smells so good.

Only Cookie Monster has met my children and they are unaware of the depth of our imaginary and nonexistant feelings for one another. No one gets hurt. There’s no messy paperwork. And, I get to have fun. Win!

I know that you are all extremely jealous at this current time. But… this could be yours, too! All of you can acquire fake spouses that will make you just as happy as I am today, in this very moment. I know of a few people already who would be willing to fake marry you! Just the other day I got to oversee the faux nuptials of my boss, Tonya and Michael from the Hallmark Store and it was a blessed union, indeed! A mere hour after saying their vows Tonya was sweet enought to purchase Michael an anniversary card from his very store… granted he had to ring it up himself but it was only made all the more magical by such a personal gesture. It was so sweet!

I have decided that from now on, I shall be registering for gifts before each and every imaginary marriage. Only, the gifts have to be real. I’ll keep you all posted on this…. it may be coming soon. (Brad from Starbucks has recently found himself single once again and numbers have been exchanged.)

In other news, Monday I have to tell Joey that I’m pregant with his imaginary baby. He’s going to be stoked. We’ve been trying for so long.

Have to go now… another blissfull evening is occurring all around me and here I sit, blogging in my underwear. Time to imagine myself in a sexy dress out on the dancefloor with my sweetie.

Oh, look… he brought me flowers!