But with less open sores and more minty freshness.
Now I want herpes.
I’m still pulling my shit together after sitting more than 20 fucking hours in a car between the three locations we traveled to while my kids sat in the back singing and fighting and then making up knock-knock jokes like this:
Son: Knock knock.
Daughter: Who’s there?
Daughter: Ketchup who?
Son: The hot dog was trying to, like, ketchup with the others. You know…it’s like, ‘catch up’ but instead I said ‘ketchup!’ Get it?
Both kids die laughing.
This went on for 20 fucking hours.
On a related note:
I’m not sure I fully wiped off my fingerprints or hid the kids’ bodies well enough.
I hid them really well.
It’s not like I’m a novice or anything.
Perhaps I’ve said too much.
But I’m working on a few things that include such topics as:
1) The Gaylord Rehabilitation Center
2) The true meaning of ‘Duty Free’
3) Having wine and lube and feathers delivered to my hotel room in Toronto and watching the bellman’s face when he realizes my kids are sharing the same room.
Good times, good times.
Leave me be, now.
I hear sirens.
I mean, um…
…I have to write these posts.