No one can talk behind my back all like, “Did you know that Vivienne went to a crazy sex thing?” like it’s juicy gossip. It’ll be more like, “Duh, she totally blogged about it.”
Between courses we stretched, did handstands, crunches, and I tried to teach everyone how to make their butts and boobs bounce, which I happen to be very good at.
I thought it would be really funny to name my dog Tardigrade and call him Tard for short and then when someone glared at me for being so insensitive and offensive I would be like, “It’s short for Tardigrade. What did you think it was short for?” and watch them twist.
This would be the answer to my giant fuzzy-mammal-belly-quest if it weren’t for the fact that rabbits are not cats which in and of itself isn’t a problem except that most rabbits are snootier than cats.
The toilet is a metaphor for my life right now, if you leave out the implied negativity that comes with toilet metaphors.
Part one of a six part series (I KNOW!!!) about my epic road trip and camp experience at Teton National Park.
I guess I should continue cultivating a little mystery around my shirtless dinner parties, even though they aren’t exactly my idea .
The fleeting and impermanent nature of this trip wasn’t lost on me. I tried to impress on my boys that they should stop and consider that one day these glaciers will be gone and they will be able to say they saw them in person, that they saw them calve into the bay, skipped stones at icebergs, and regarded the mineral blue of the glacial ice that is unlike any blue we’ve ever seen; that children might ask them what it was like.
Bartleby just loves to snuggle up in there for the night. I’ve started doubling up on panties because I think he actually wants to climb up inside my vagina which is CLOSED FOR BUSINESS.
If you are feeling all boo-hoo that you weren’t invited, I posted many photos of the party as it was going on and you know you could have shown up to, um, borrow a cup of sugar