My dad brought a bunch of old pictures to give me when he was here two weeks ago, and for some reason I ended up with this one of my cousin Missy and an old boyfriend of hers.
I kept texting Missy – yes, after a few glasses of wine - telling her I wanted to send her a picture of something. Since she doesn’t have a phone with photo viewing capabilities, (sidenote: WHAT THE FUCK. YOUR HUSBAND IS A COMPUTER PROGRAMMER FOR INTEL.) I have decided I will just post the old thing here on my blog.
Cousin Missy has offered to go to Australia with me, which is on my bucket list. I would love to travel with Missy. We could earn extra beer money beating unassuming dudes at pool in Australian pubs, laugh about who stinks up the hotel bathroom the worst, and eat cheeseburgers for breakfast. Missy suggested we tour around Australia in custom-made t-shirts which have a naked picture of us together when we were three years old.
I have a better idea. I think we should have t-shirts printed up with THIS picture on them, and for the caption we will say,
“I DATED DIRK DIGGLER. I KNOW YOU’RE JEALOUS“
I’m glad my family members have a sense of humor, because sometimes I wonder what the hell else would I write about on this website since I don’t have dogs and I don’t like Rush Limbaugh.
PS – Missy, can we fly first class?
Jesus, when are you going to post again? I’m waiting!
That clown jumper was awesome, I will have you know.
Dirk Diggler…I wish.
Oh, this picture. I believe this was for Big Hands 50th birthday, soooo like ’93? First of all, I think a simple “it was the 90′s” should suffice as an explanation to anything that happened early in that decade, but that doesn’t explain why I thought it would be a good idea to bring The Mustache with me to Tulsa? To our family. Talk about feeding him to the wolves. I believe this was the same trip that Big Hands drank a bit too much at his party and kept making inappropriate comments about the size of my tits (which I believe were making a valiant attempt to escape from a very tight halter type shirt…but still, cue the banjo music) . I was 20 and I could get away with things like going braless. Sigh. So glad I took advantage of that gloriously perky time. Even if my lech of an uncle is the only that appreciated it. Those were the days. This was the peak of Nirvana and Alice in Chains and all that, so my horribly flat hair must have been my midwestern nod to Seattle chic. Who knows. You wore a clown jumper around the same time, so we were clearly not in our right minds. And because we are FB friends (so glad you couldn’t post it there…he has no sense of humor) I can tell you that he has that same ‘stache at 45…along with 5 kids. Dodged a bullet there!
Thanks for sharing this little piece of history. Good times.
Maybe I can work really, really, really, really hard and earn back those perky titties and then we can hit some topless beaches Down Under!!!
Love you!!
PS: I just read this and thought of you:
COCK-A-DOODLE-POO
The bowel movement that, needing to come out urgently, wakes you up in the morning to get to the toilet quick.
We’ll kick Australia’s ass!!!