"This is amazing." Kestan purrs.
"We've seen this before." I mumble.
"But the ridiculous effects every adrenaline junkie could want, and Jolie looks hot. It's the essence of how I feel when he finally blows up on everyone, they get me." she continues.
"Yes yes, you just think it's amazing because you put too much vodka in your disgusting drink and you're too relaxed." I snap.
"I asked you'd if you wanted one. I thought that was why you put your kids to bed early. I'm glad you did, that cupcake after dinner was a stupid idea. The big one was a Donnie Darko miniature, the sugary cupcake was the white rabbit tonight who tumbled down the hole and started controlling her thoughts. Didn't you even hear her divinely evil laugh? I could swear she's my blood."
"I didn't put them to bed that early." I mumble, defensively.
"An HOUR early?!?!?" she yells, obviously exaggerating with her stupid mocking tone.
"You told me to do it. They've had a long weekend. You're so freaking full of oxymorons tonight, aren't you?! Why can't you just stay at the Double Tree?" I grunt.
"It's called a metaphor. Sh*t it's a good thing youve got me around, people might think you're actually raised in Arkansas, not just born here. You're lucky, you might remember that. I chose YOU. Who would have yelled at the kids earlier when they didn't listen the first time you told them to do something? And yet there you were apologizing ten minutes later. You're ridiculous, such a sucker for those..."gremlins." You're going to confuse them you know, we need to be on the same page. Go hard or go home, pansy. Grow a backbone. And go buy us a cigarette."
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It's been like this All.Freaking.Week. Okay, maybe just the past few days. She's been hanging around especially when I'm tired, or rushed for time. She made a surprising appearance Friday night at the Murder Mystery party. You could really tell she was having a great time playing the mouthy family tramp. She stayed afterwards for a couple of (large) glasses of wine and poor Borat imitation out on the back deck. It was such a blast! We were the dysfunctional southern Sugarbaker family, wealthy from a few businesses in Atlanta, GA. I married into the family money, my husband a gambling sleazy liar, Big Daddy on verge of keeling over and coincidentally bestowing gobs of money upon us, while we fight over who deserves it with the drunkard uncle, overly sensitive younger son, his yuppie Yankee wife, the nut job ex wife, and loyal upstanding nurse. We all dressed for the part and had the audience participate, when we didn't get carried away mouthing off to one another anyways hahah...such a blast! I definitely suggest it if you haven't gone or participated in one before-you can order a script kit online!
I actually ran half a mile this week before stopping to walk. I realize runners and wives of runners think that's hardly a taste, but BIG accomplishment for me. And then I did it again. The last mile wasnt quite so easy, however. I was in the ZONE, thinking positive thoughts and not doubting myself...
"You know, it would be easy to just quit now. Nobody would know!!" I hear.
"Shut UP. I'm doing this and you won't be talking me out of it."
"Well Jesus, slow down a little...it took me the whole first mile to catch up." she slithers with her two-pronged tongue. Wheezing, obviously exaggerating her planned death scene. Interrupting the peaceful and tranquil rhythm I had going, promptly throwing it on the ground and stomping on it, all the while telling me there's useless baby kittens in it. Treating it like it was hers to ruin. Witch.
"Let's say I just throw one of these your way, you turn around slowly like you're fighting it, and we talk over a cigarette from the pack you pretend you don't know are on the counter..." she continues. I practically double over from jogging position in the side PAIN she promised, cursing and yelling a throaty and aggravated (AHHH!!!) while I continue trudging forward.
But I power through it. Keep running, keep looking up and letting Adele sooth my mind and pain away. My throat is fairly dry like it usually is the second mile. Small acidic belch flees...
"You're getting better, you almost threw up but you turned it into a hairy burp. Your face was really disgusting when you did it though. Too bad you're not one of those who is photogenic ALL the time, cause that face will be burned in my mind when you tell me you're running again. I have a photographic memory, which is usually a good thing except you were like this" (double chin, mouth corners pointed down, lips bared, eyes half closed and crossed obnoxious burping noise that sounded nothing like me) "and it resembled Jabba Hut. You sounded like the wookie though. Like maybe they slept together once at their after party and later birthed you out their va..."
"OKAY, I freaking get it. I REALLY hate you sometimes. You're extremely crass and overly abrasive today, even for you." I seeth through tight lips. And then I can't help it, even though I'm extremely irritated my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask--"Why a 'hairy' burp?"
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Here's a random couple of pictures from some yummy recipes we've tried!
Stuffed Meatballs. Stuffed with what you ask? Mozzarella!
Stuffed chicken prosciutto. Yum. Stuffed themed week I guess.
My poor babe fell asleep on her mini pillow pet while momma shopped. She's obsessed with the bee.
And again randomly after she hurt her foot and needed a minute to chill from hardcore playing...
I made bows. Sick of paying bookoos for bows we always seem to lose. Boys have it so easy!
I stole a tiny baby...for about 20 minutes...in her own home...
Made a family tree painting for a baby shower I co-hosted! The "leaves" were guests thumbprints and they signed by their thumbprint.
Added pretty fabric border for pizzazz. You are free to pin this to Pinterest. Fabric glue, super sharp scissors. We had such a blast, I looked up the tree idea and some super fun games! Hoping to see more pictures soon?
That's my weeks in pictures :D I haven't read in about 6 weeks, pretty mixed feelings about that. Happy to be busy, sad to feel I'm losing momentum in that area! I'm off to do whatever it is I do between posts.
-Kesolyn
Editor's Note: If this is the first post you are reading, I swear I'm not borderline psychotic if you don't know what the 'Kestan' biz is. It was a joke that has really taken like fire. She "comes out" when I'm tired, hungry, cranky, PMSing, or had one too many choice beverages. She's my skinny, big headed scape goat. And after watching The Beaver with Mel Gibson, I seriously reconsidered my act...
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