Lemme tell you all what totally made my weekend. Now, remember, I have no life, so this was big excitement.
Zoë’s cousin, Jacksy (nickname), turned three this past weekend. He’s part of my under three crowd that I baby-sit occasionally. I’ve been babysitting that little dude since he was about 4 months old. Sometimes he calls me MommyDebby. Zoë calls him her brother (brud-err). Zoë’s my girl; well this little dude is my boy. I love that little man.
When I went on retreat, Sis #1 sent me a picture of Jacksy in some shades. He wrote on the back “Debby, you are so coooooool. I love you more than I can poop.” Which, trust me, is a LOT! (sorry, TMI)
My sister and I both kind of agree that overdone kid birthday parties suck. So we usually just have cake and such. Low key, at her house. The kids just play and eat cake in their big driveway. We had pizza and salad, and then cake and presents.
Jacksy got this Sit-N-Spin that you hook up to a hose. It shoots up little sprays of water. We hooked it up and I took off Jacksy’s shirt. Zoe wanted to play, so I took off her dress too. My other niece, Genny and her little friend Ne Ne stripped down too.
Jacksy decided to hang free and took off his diaper. The other’s followed suit. It was hilarious. All these little naked kids playing in the sprinkler in the driveway. Zoë was posing and laying down on the ground, moving her arms and legs about like she was swimming.
We all agreed that this is how all parties should end. Naked in the driveway.
I guess you just had to be there.
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Supper club was fun. Again. No date. But everyone had a good time. The food was great. The house was amazing. The women looked gorgeous and the guys were just too good looking. The hostess drives this super bad ass Hummer. I totally dig her. Good thing her husband owns an oil company because that damn thing was huge. I bet it costs $50 to fill it up.
But of course, I got bombarded with all kinds of questions about Dr. E. Where is he? Are we still dating? Will we still date after he moves away? Shit, how I miss him!
I’m reading a poolside book (aka, the equivalent of People magazine reading) called “Mr. Maybe” by Jane Green. I haven’t finished, but she describes my relationship with Dr. E to a T. Sex & companionship with no commitment. As is the case with me, a bit easier said than done.
I miss him but dammit I don’t want to. He’s not “The One” so I should just take it casually. I want to, but he’s got me addicted. No mas, no mas. I don’t want to think about him anymore. Blah!
Soooooo……
One of the husbands at the party said I need a sugar daddy. I completely agree. I need distracting. Someone new. Will fuck for shoes.**
The girls decided they were going to have another clothing swap party. Everyone cleans out their closets and they pick and choose what they want. We did it last year and had so much fun. The hostess decided that she’d get a jump on the party and a bunch of us went up to raid her closet of shoes. She’s a total Goddess. Versace, Jimmy Choo, Gucci. Amazing shoes. Unfortunately, her foot was a bit too small for me, but Poppy and Cyndi and my sister cleaned up. Lots of come fuck me pumps, so I guess someone had some fun after the party.
I reminded the girls that they should invite their friends WHO ACTUALLY HAVE AN ASS to the swap party. Just for once I’d like to walk away with something other than a purse. (Ok, I’m not J Lo, but I’m not Way Lo either. I actually have a little junk in my trunk, but it’s all good).
Sugar Daddy postion: Now accepting applications……
**the hostess’s husband takes this literally. He says she trades “favors” for shoes/clothes. Damn, I completely dig sex, so if that were an option for me, I’d be buying a new pair of shoes every day. Yippee, Neiman Marcus, here I come. Literally.
P.S. Thanks Jesster for your kind message. I think the cry room has our name on it too.
P.S.S. Hang in there Aimee. A liar is a liar is a liar.