Pretty All True is the most highly rated non-selling Kindle humor blog subscription on Amazon!
I know! How awesome is that?
All because of you.
I am all swoony with gratitude.
You guys wrote some amazing kick-ass reviews.
Yes, I twisted your arms a bit.
But love that requires a bit of threatened violence to reach its full expression?
That is some seriously awesome dysfunctional love . . . the truest sort.
OK, so if you wrote a review and sent me an email that contained your address? I have answered that email as of this morning. Your card will be heading out in the mail this afternoon.
Which means that if you wrote me a review and you have not heard from me in the past 24 hours? You fucked up and forgot to send me your address. I still love you, but you fucked up. I need your address to send you a card. So get on that.
Speaking of mis-communication.
I am hanging out the other day and it suddenly occurs to me that I am in the mood for some sex. For a moment, I think I am hungry, but then I focus on the feeling and realize that a different sort of oral gratification is required. Mark has been all cute hanging the Christmas lights in the rain and starting dinner. I am feeling all rewardy.
Where is that man, anyway?
I find him upstairs helping the girls with their computers.
Hmmm . . .
No reason I can’t steal him away for a little while, right?
He does not look up from the computer, “Hey.”
“So I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes.”
“Sure. What do you want?”
“Sort of need some privacy for this discussion.”
“Oh. OK, so we’ll talk later, then.”
I stand there in the doorway for a moment, contemplating my next move. Trying to look sexy without looking sexy, because the girls are both staring at me curiously. And then Mark says, “If you’re looking for something to do, there is a basket of laundry that needs folding.”
People? I so need to work on my subtle sexy look. There is no way I meant to convey, “I am all aimless and in need of being assigned a household chore.”
Mark looks up at me, “The laundry is in the basket by the couch.”
So I go fold the laundry.
OK, let’s try this again. I go back upstairs. Mark is working with Maj and Kallan on installing some software something or other on their computers.
“You got a minute, babe? I want to show you something.”
“I’m kind of busy right now. What did you want to show me?”
“OK, well the thing I want to show you is something I cannot actually show you unless you come in the other room.”
“Well, tell me later. I’m busy.”
I stand there looking subtly sexy again. I am so sure I have it right this time, but Mark says, “Could you check to see how much time is left on the oven timer? And start some vegetables, would you?”
People? How am I giving off chore vibes when I want to be giving off job vibes?
So I check the timer. Start some vegetables. Set the table.
Still like 15 minutes before dinner. I can still make this work.
I walk upstairs all purposefully, “Hey, Mark! I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“I cannot talk about this subject in front of certain people.”
And then Mark and Maj and Kallan all turn to stare at me.
And then Mark says, “Could you get me a Coke from the basement pantry?”
I stomp downstairs, yelling back, “OK, fine! But later? When you do not have the information that I am right this moment trying to share with you? You are going to be filled with regret.”
Maj and Kallan giggle.
People? That did not go well.
So we eat dinner.
I clear the table. Wash the dishes.
Maj and Kallan look at me expectantly.
Kallan says, “Don’t you need to talk to Daddy?”
Maj smiles, “Yeah, and show him stuff?
Kallan giggles happily, “In private?”
Maj giggles happily as well, “Call Daddy, Mom. Take him where we can’t hear.”
What . . . the . . . fuck?
I stare at their happy faces for a moment.
Oh my god!
They think I want to talk to Mark about Christmas presents I have hidden for them!
I go find Mark, “Hey, you know how I wanted to talk to you in private? Show you something I can’t show you in front of the girls?”
“You realize I haven’t done any Christmas shopping at all yet, right?”
He stares at me.
I stare at him.
And then realization dawns, “Oh!”