I�m actually in competition with a girl over my husband. I�ve never engaged in a beauty contest with anyone, but last year at Sil�s birthday a certain Ukrainian wrapped her body around him and kissed his cheek in a most disrespectful fashion. I probably deserved it, but it was so upsetting that I had to look away and pretend not to notice, because catfights aren�t my scene. I�m sure she poses no serious threat, nevertheless, this year I am determined to intimidate the parasite with the powers of extreme sexiness which I am about to summon. Childish and obsessive, maybe, but it�s a peaceful alternative to driving a splintery stake through her heart, and far more gratifying.
I notified Hb of my pending victory. �I�ll be so pretty she�ll feel like an ogre next to me,� I declared matter-of-factly. Judging by Hb�s response, my primordial desire to defend my love is the ultimate turn-on to him. Generally I'd think this sort of competition foolish, but this is my husband we�re talking about, i.e. that bitch is goin� down! I mean uh, I'm going to be really pretty. It will be fun to make out in front of all those kids. We may be married and older than the rest at the party, but it�s time we showed them we�re too kinky for ing�nues.
My new sport is turning out to be fun. I can�t wait to employ my guerilla tactics. Glowing tan? Check. Sexy clothes? Check. Sexy radiant makeup? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Some sexy gladiator sandals while I�m at it? Okay! My vermillion painted toes will be so hot that SHE will want to suck them. Well tough, because I don�t feed ogres. These are for my man, honey. And aaaaaaaaaaaaall-a-this too. Betta recognize! (I'm getting good at this.)
Hb and I have been very in-step lately, just like good co-conspirators should be. Recent family traumas seem to have brought us closer. We are conquistadors with matching hats and mustaches. (Figuratively speaking.)
Happy anniversary to us!
2:04 p.m. - 2008-05-29