You guys...it has been FOREVER since I've blogged. I'm not sure if it's the copious amount of wine I've consumed this evening, or the sheer unfortunate details of tonight's events that's forced me to dust off the keyboard. Either way, here's to a good read...and my extreme vulnerability...
It all started just a few hours ago. I'll try to make this semi-long story short, and get right to the point.
I was standing in the kitchen, and Kev kind of gave me the "look." The "Sweet Jesus, what did I vow to hold on to for better or for worse? When is the last time she's stepped even NEAR a washcloth?" look. I knew it was coming. In the last 7 days, I powered through an entire bag of Seedlings wipes for small quick whore baths of shame. I smelled like a burnt onion ring, no doubt. I real quick caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and admired the hair-do I was still sporting....from LAST SUNDAY!!! I had a cute little coif on the top of my head that resembled literally ALL of Flock of Seagulls, and, by running my fingers through it, I could easily butter pancakes for our entire Family of 8. The deli ladies were starting to talk.
He said..."Babe...go ahead and get in the shower."
So, off I went.
Unfortunately... The "adult" shower was out of commissions. I also waited entirely too long between showers, that I forgot which order I normally do things.
Started by washing my face. I grabbed my face scrub because, clearly...I needed SOME sort of massive exfoliation.
I recently turned crunchy, so I obviously went ahead and made my own facial scrub. I'm basically Martha Stewart now. It's fine. Here's a quick PSA though...when exfoliating your face with a bunch of hippy dippy shit, like... coconut oil, sugar, and a few of your favorite essential oils, DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES...EVEN if one of your turdhole children runs in to steam smoke you with a massive taco dump. Can she use another bathroom? Nooooooooooo...because she's waited too long, and it's turtle heading. Perfect. Kill me now.
So, while my eyes are glued shut and I stand there waiting for the scorching, acid like feeling in my eyeballs to subside, I reach for some sort of body wash. Is there any body wash though? Sure the balls isn't!!! Why you ask? Oh, because my sweet Penny Jane decided to use the entire bottle for a Malibu Barbie mother f*cking foam party!!! It was a rager, I'm sure.
So, I move along. As the stench of said child's hot fudge baby permeates through the steamy air, I figure I'll just go ahead and wash my hair. With WHAT though? Penny needed all of that for Barbie's 2.5 inches of GD hair. Super. Some Lush shampoo bar it was! WTF is a shampoo bar? We'll soon find out...maybe.
Y'all ever open one of these GD shampoo bar tins? Am I the ONLY human being that WETS their head before washing it? Try opening one of those f*cking Chinese finger trap bitches when your hands are wet. Go ahead...try it.
"Oh, hey. Is that a tiny replica of Fort fucking Knox?"
"Nope. Just a shampoo bar tin from HELL."
I yelled for Ella. She ran in. Immediately complained of the giant steamy poo smell, and asked what I needed. She knew good and well what I needed, once I flashed that shiny tin from Satan. She's like...."OHHHHHHHH...I hate those! Stopped using them because I can't get the shit open." She didn't say shit though. That's just all of my pent up anger.
She worked on it with a butter knife for a while. Nothin! Even brought it down to Kev. He thought it was a trick, and told it to f*ck off.
She brought it back up to me and said "No dice." I wasn't giving up. I threw it against the wall a few hundred times. Last time I threw it, it landed on my pinky toe. Now I have shit in my eyes, nothing to wash my body OR hair with, a busted ass toe, and a bathroom that smells like a port-a-jon after a black bean burrito bowl rager. F*CK. THIS.
It gets better.
I try drying my hands to get a better grip on Houdini's secret "f*ck you" box. I reach outside of the tub, towards the stool, to grab my towel. I'm going after it for a while, but given I'm not 25 anymore, my back starts to say "You're not Simone Biles. Sit the f*ck down!"
Here it goes....
I engage in a gentle "squat," still leaning against the tub.
Can one tell a story with just a photo?
No? How about a better angle?
You guys...I gentle squatted RIGHT onto Barbie's entire f*cking leg.
NO! It didn't just brush up against my skin. I'm talking FULL penetration..right into the forbidden back end balloon knot. And it didn't just "slip" right in. Nooooooooo!!! That bitch's foot spared NO mercy on the old puckered starfish.
So, there you have it. I feel like I just got gang banged by a bunch of Mattel whores, while Peppa Pig and her entire entourage sat there and LAUGHED.
So, as Barbie gives absolutely ZERO effs about what I had just endured, I sit here with a bandaid on my ham flower.
Stay safe. Use a butt wipe.