My dear little Deb,
It seems that you are in search of your very own MommyBlogger. I am not certain that I actually qualify as a MommyBlogger since I'm much more interested in talking about my vagina than about my no longer snotty nosed children. However, your bedtime story reached deep into my twisted little heart and brought forth the tiniest spark of Mommyness. Let's see if we can fan the flames and make it grow.
Today you are... oh hell, I don't know how fucking old you are. I'm too busy drinking Jack to bother with counting. But you are probably at least 21 and since that is the age you should be so I don't have to feel icky about my luuurve for you that is the age you will always remain. Young, innocent, nubile and bendy.
The last 12 months have been ...
It began with a super naughty Super Hero birthday party. The hell with the princesses, you wanted gorgeous women with breasts heaving out of their super-costumes. And men in tights. I think that was when I first knew you were mine.
Then you were visited by one of the grand-poobahs of bloggers, Bossy, while she was cavorting around the country on Bossy's Excellent Road Trip. As you talked on and on and fucking on about how much you wanted to eat corn chips out of Bossy's navel I came to understand that you weren't my sweet little blogger whose world revolved around me any longer. You had your own friends and your own life. This moment was bittersweet. So I took another shot of Jack and a couple of Valium to help me deal with losing my little girl.
You followed that up by breaking my heart by NOT loving SATC. I know I raised you better than that. But I tried to quell your rebellious behavior by telling you all about my SATC vagina exerciser. I know that imagining your MommyBlogger's vagina will probably send you into years of therapy but I'm OK with that because I just bought another bottle of MommyJuice instead of putting money away for your college education. This will give you something else to bitch about to the shrink.
Your wild phase continued when your robotic clit voted for Sarah Palin in a lacy negligee, or some shit like that. I was so busy shooting vodka out my nose to catch all the details. Moments like these made me so proud to be your MommyBlogger.
The winter cold meant you were stuck inside more which of course led to MS having to beat you off with a very sexy leather whip because you were both Ovulating. Damn lucky woman, that MS.
And then you found Jesus or Buddha or some random goat to worship. I blame Twitter and Gandhi. But since your litergy involves PANCAKES I decided to cancel the intervention and just drink the kool-aide right along with you.
Which brings us to today, your 21st birthday. I'm so proud to be your MommyBlogger that my blackened rock of a heart might just burst. Now, let's find a bar with hot servers and $5 body shots to celebrate. Don't forget your Wonder Woman Costume!