Oh but I beg to differ sir! I'm about to run in the snow, I need to be warm. And also, right before I was told that I was looking at myself in the mirror thinking, "Oooh, this is kinda cute. Like sporty cute."
"No."
"No?"
"No, it's not."
"Are you sure?"
" . . ."
And because I know myself and my sexual prowess, I stood strong and maintained it was not an unattractive look. Not at all. I know unattractive! And I knew that I wasn't done dressing.
Because then - then came this:
I'm not sure why I look drunk so early in the morning, nor why my hoodie/warm headband combo makes look like I'm about to go scuba dive, but it always does. For some reason, this particular hoodie is so fit, and tight around the head, it's less hood and more skull cap. Like something you put on to flatten your hair down before you put a wig on.
Needless to say, I was still thrilled with my look and the new snow when I got back from my run that I decided it was time to get James out into the cold. Time to let him get giddy with happiness at the pretty weather, and possibly up his cuteness level by a million by sticking his little kitty tongue out to gather snow flakes on it! HOW MUCH FUN WE WILL HAVE! I shouted as I picked him up and dragged him out into the snow with me.
He was not a fan.
He pretty much saw me heading for the door, looked up at me and said, "You've got to be shitting me."
"OH AM I?"
"You don't want to do this."
"OH DON'T I?!"
"I'm not kidding."
"OH AREN'T YOU!"
"Have you seen the way I can kill with my bare teeth and then devour a bird twice my size in a matter of seconds?"
"OH HAVE I?"
". . . "
"I mean, I have. Yes. I have seen you do that. But c'mon! This will be fun!!! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!"
And then, giddy with anticipation, and dressed for sexy I dragged my little sucker out into the first snowfall! Because I knew once he got out there he'd love it. He'd look up at me and be thrilled. He'd probably thank me; with a little kitty card he made by himself at his little kitty desk, signed: **pawprint** your James. (And then I'd cry).
Anyway, he didn't love it so much as he hated it. Hated it a lot. But that doesn't mean I didn't stay out long enough to take many, many pictures!!! (My kids are so gonna be the ones at the mall dressed in matching cowboy outfits, complete with fake guns, for their fake posed shootout at sundown, and they'll be all, "Mom this sucks." and I'll be all, "Just do it, you know you'll love it once that life size photo comes back and I hang it on your wall. Think of how cool your friends will think it is!" and they'll be all, "I don't want it on my wall. I'm eighteen. And I don't have friends anymore. Not after you jumped out of my birthday cake at school and sang Happy Birthday to me like Marilyn Monroe." and I'll be all, "But that was so fun for me!" and they'll be all, "Marilyn Monroe, Mom! For fuck's sake!" and I'll be all, "Ok that's it mister, for cussing at me you now have to wear that bandanna as a handkerchief around your mouth. You just got demoted to robber.")
(Click to enlarge/read)
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