Three bitches, one dude.

Cosmo is messing with me.  I had a lazy Sunday with Kerry, Chris and Jonas.  The plan was to do a bit of day drinking and watch True Blood. Rowr.  Eric is just, ohh.  Anyway, Jonas bought some tabloids and I of course purchased Cosmo.  One of the headlines was "VAGINAS UNDER ATTACK". I thought, "Is there a vagina war going on?  Is mine in danger?" Turns out it was about gynecologists trying to get you to have plastic surgery on your piece.  I have enough apprehension with my face, Lin and Chang will not be persuading me to get anything done down under.  Back to Cosmo effing with me.  I read my horoscope.  After reading, I have to wonder what constellations/stars they are consulting.  Maybe Webbie Debbie writes the horoscopes.  This was part of mine: "While he's in your mouth, hold a vibrator to your cheek.  Disgusting and dangerous.  The Sun, the Moon and the planets are unrealistic perverts.

I have to say Chris is a trooper. He hangs out with three bitches on a fairly regular basis and never complains.  We were having drinks before the Sox game on Friday when us girls started talking about when our next cycle was beginning.  We don't hold back on details either. Chris said, "I have made some poor decisions in my life that have led me to this moment."  Even yesterday, I walked into the room and mumbled something.  Kerry asked me to repeat myself and I whined, "My boobs are killing me."  Chris shook his head and chugged his Miller Lite.  I also shared my horoscope with him. He had to read it for himself.

I was exhausted yesterday and mused that I wished I had some Midol PM so I could sleep like a baby.  I stopped at CVS on the way home.  I was scanning the aisle and there was a man standing next to me looking at tampons.  I saw the Midol and grabbed it.  He snorted.  As though it was so typical of a woman to buy the product.  If I wasn't sleepy, I would have said, "I'm sorry, sir.  You're looking at maxi pads and tampons.  Your balls must be so big." I did flip him off behind his back.

I felt terrible for not going home on Father's Day, especially because I am my dad's favorite, but I could not endure another Peter Pan bus ride.  Sorry, Pops. I did chat with him twice this weekend.  He has a joke that when you ask him how he is, he replies, "Let me check."  Every time.  He got me on Saturday, but I got the sucker yesterday.  "How are ya, honey?" He asked.  "Oh, let ME check."  I replied.  He did his "Nyuck, nyuck nyuck" while presumably shaking his fist.  I told him how I tried sushi the night before.  He was impressed.  I even tried fish eggs.   I didn't tell my mom all of the details as she equates eating raw fish to risking one's life.  Kath worries enough.

I meant to massage my assface last night, but like I said, I was exhausted.  I will tonight.  It's going to be messy.  I return to the office of Lin, Lang, Chang at the end of July.  People tell me they can barely see the scar and it looks much better.  I need to figure out a story to tell my children about my battle wound.  Maybe something like, "I took a bullet in the face for you.  Pour me some wine."  Or, "I was knifed when pregnant with you, clean mommy's room."  Ideas welcome. 

Until next time, bitches.  Happy Father's Day, Dad!  XO.