Mime Your Own Business

Once upon a time I was absolutely sure that I should go to school to be a massage therapist. I got all the information, contacted the school, made googly eyes at Sallie Mae for a student loan and lined everything up, and then, I realized something: I have an absolutely paralyzing fear of women's thighs. I find them terrifying, and, after double checking with the massage instructors that thighs were on the massage menu, ran screaming away from that life direction. =silently pretends to sprint across the living room while checking behind her to make sure no thighs are in pursuit=

About 2 years ago, I began courses to become a childbirth educator & doula with a long term interest in midwifery. I must that I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and seemed to have found something that suited my rather specific area of life experience: procreating. However, about a week ago I had an epiphany: I have an absolutely paralyzing fear of women's thighs (sound familiar?). Now, why this didn't occur to me earlier I don't know. I have spent the last week trying to see if there any midwifes doing c-sections instead of the other route (which is smack dab in the middle of the thighs for any of you who haven't made the connection yet), but evidently this is highly frowned upon. Go figure. =silently pretends to deliver a baby with eyes closed and as if from a great distance away=

So I am selling all my textbooks, coursework and birth aids on ebay, and have decided to join the circus.

My original plan was to become a trapeze artist but the only practice trapeze I could find was from those kinky sex shops and I kept smashing into walls. Besides, truth is that I am not at all flexible and evidently the ability to touch one's toes is highly prized in trapeze artists. =silently attempts to touch toes and instead falls over into a non existent puddle of water=

So then I decided to become a trampolinist like those little bouncy kids in Japan. But unfortunately the only trampoline my apartment complex would let me have was one of those little living room rebounding ones. I have learned that the hard way that the only way anyone will pay to watch someone jump on a miniature trampoline is if you take your bra off. Won't fall for that twice! =silently realizes that she's been had and pretends to stomp off and slam a non existent but really heavy door=

I might have to give up joining the circus as I don't want to grow a beard, and Michael said he would smother me in my sleep if I keep pantomiming things =silently puts hands to cheeks and looks really, really, really alarmed=

Look Busy! Jesus Is Coming!

So it occurs to me this evening that not a great deal has occurred to me lately. I blame the swiftly approaching summertime heat and the impending end of the world. I suppose though that we should not necessarily stop all day to day activities while awaiting the apocalypse, and this entire train of thought reminds me of the bumper sticker that says "Look Busy! Jesus Is Coming!". =snort, snort, snort= (that's me laughing while eating M&Ms that I'm picking up from the floor with my toes. Now if I could only actually get the foot to my mouth and cut out the hand motion entirely then I would surely win an award for efficiency.............. Dexter left them on the floor, thank you for asking and making unmerited judgments about my housekeeping).

So Obama has clinched the nomination but Hillary is still in denial (see my previous post). I don't see how they could possibly not place her as the VP on his ticket. The entire election process has lost its appeal to me this go 'round, although I have to admit that I still find Obama disturbing (antichrist), and possibly (antichrist) a figure (antichrist) whose true character (antichrist) is yet to be fully revealed (antichrist). There's something under the surface (antivenom - ha you thought I had mindlessly typed antichrist again). Oh, and for any Obama zombies about to complain about my antichrist reference, just hush up. You don't believe in the antichrist anyway, so it's kind of like me calling your candidate the king gummy bear and master of ceremonies at the jedi knight's annual BBQ. In other words, a label that you can't necessarily object to as it is completely without context in your world. So meh, Obama zombie, now be gone.... go practice swooning.

Now for some random thoughts, aggressively grouped together in one paragraph. Langdon had a very good birthday. He is now officially "a whole hand". Dexter is without a doubt the most insanely male child ever birthed, made evident in bouts of attempts to beat us into submission, and then aggressively kiss us until we run away screaming. He is a child of extremes including acts of random destruction and mindless consumption - we find him highly amusing. Summer is very excited about her 13th birthday and is determined to have a 3 tier cake decorated in flowers and Transformers. I do not know where to find an Optimus Prime cake topper but I'm sure I'll figure it out by her birthday or she'll post on myspace that we failed her as parents and that no one understands her. Again. Lily is an extraordinarily gentle and loving human being who far surpasses me in maternal instincts and patience; she is also highly repetitive, but I don't know if she could surpass me in that. I mean I really don't know if she can overtake me in the ability to repeat the same thing over and over again. Because I just don' t know if that's possible. Mackenzie has grown a booty this year and is traumatized by it. She's the only one in the family to have a butt, and she finds it disconcerting, almost as if something is following her. I suppose all the junk in the trunk jokes don't help.