Saturday morning my niece thought it would be hilarious to pants me at our family brunch in the middle of talking to my father-in-law. Yep, there I was… standing, minding my own business and talking about how easy it was to make sloppy joes… and down came the pants. I wasn’t sure if I should be more embarrassed by the fact I hadn’t shaved above the knee in a few days, or that my underwear had cat whiskers on it. Either way – mortifying. You’re welcome for the show, Dad. Me-ow.
For some reason my nieces and nephews don’t look at me like I’m a 30-year-old adult, but rather a very large child. Which means any time they are around I’m usually limping around the house pretending to be a purple giraffe that got it’s leg run over by a rogue safari Jeep or something along those lines. It’s better than wine and cheese, really. It’s fun. It’s crazy. It’s a goddamn blessing. It saves me from a lot of awkwardly boring small talk. (Social anxiety’s mortal enemy.) Who the hell wants to spend family time talking about politics and car issues anyway? I’m good on that, thanks.
Pro-tip to my fellow adult-sized children: wear a belt. Nobody want’s to see your kitty’s whiskers.
Hope y’all have a good weekend and are successful in keeping your pants on. Unless, well, you know…
(PS- Sorry if you got the ‘new post’email twice. I posted it on accident yesterday when I wanted to post it today. Forgive me! I hate when people repost their same blogs over and over just to get more views, so I feel ya. It won’t happen again, folks)