OK, I really have nothing to say, but I have to get that last post off the front page. Because if it weren’t enough itself, my aunt emailed me for an explanation of what Dirty Sanchez means. Awesome. She’s lucky her cell mailbox is full because I almost called and left a message saying I was Sanchez (I wouldn’t leave it on her home phone because she has a husband and children and I do have some limits).
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I hooked up with two of my cousins on Twitter, forgetting that I have this blog on my profile and sometimes link to posts. I don’t know if they noticed or not, in case they are, I need to say:
1. If you (and you know who you are), please let me know.
2. This is a big old secret blog (as secret as anything on the internet can be), so please don’t share it with anyone.
3. If I ever say anything about how completely batshit insane my family is, I am totally not talking about you guys. No, really. Much.
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My baby girl is growing up. First, she got her ears pierced. Next, she learned to ride her bike without training wheels. And next week, she “graduates” from pre-school. Sigh.
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Anyway, this was a whole lot of nothing, but at least we can move on and pretend I never said anything about Dirty You Know Who.
2 comments:
Heh.
I've lived a sheltered life.
Even when I was at boarding school for high school. And I'll admit that I had to go to Wikipedia to find out what a DS was. Um. Gross.
I really hope you didn't explain that to your aunt.
But if you did, I hope you recorded it. ;)
Too late. I'm scarred for life.
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