No, I’m not confused – nor am I lacking in the brain cell department. I’m well aware that we’re still two months away from Christmas, but “Baby, It’s Cold Outside!” (Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.)
The process in which my brain goes through to narrow down an actual landing pad after a plethora of haphazard thoughts have overstayed their welcome in this head of mine is still unknown. Let’s just say I’m thankful that my brain actually lands on one singular thought when it’s all said and done. That singular thought today just so happened to be Christmas. Here’s a little glimpse into the exact scientific process. You’re welcome. Or, I’m sorry – depending on your mood.
- Woke up.
- Thought it was cold.
- Thought coffee would help.
- Thought, “this sucks, coffee didn’t help”.
- Thought snuggling with the cat would help.
- Thought snuggling with the cat was weird when he started licking my arm.
- Thought I should step outside to check the temp so I could get away from the cat.
- Thought it was colder than I thought.
- Thought I should lock the door even though it’s daytime since there is a serial robber in the neighborhood that only breaks in to steal women’s panties (no joke).
- Thought about the person who sent me the article on the robber (Allison).
- Thought about how it was weird that my 31-year-old friend, Allison, and her brother, Scott, still take time to write up a Christmas list to send to their parents.
- Thought about Christmas.
Running back to check the thermostat settings in my house, I realize that, once again, I’ve left the AC on overnight. Maybe this lacking brain cells thing isn’t all that far fetched. I did have a bit of Skinny Girl sangria last night, which could have easily been the culprit in the neglected thermostat situation. Interesting…
But I did realize that my new hoo-has would totally be my Christmas present this year! Hell, I know plenty of women that wish they could get new knockers – whether it’s a lift, a reduction or full on DD’s. So now, just like Allison (in the photo on the right), I too, have a materialistic thing to look forward to this year! Except my gift obviously won’t be under the tree. And if for some outlandish reason under the tree is where my gift ends up, I either need to see a therapist or lay off the wine.
I’d like to thank my faulty genes as well as my insurance company for gifting the most perfect pair of boobs a girl could ever ask for! And since sending a “thank you for my present” note is A: impossible, B: senseless, and C: please see A and B, I’ve decided to have a cocktail instead (a small one, of course). So, on this lovely, cold, Christmasy kind of Friday, I’ve poured myself a glass of white wine sangria in celebration for my new Christmas boobs! Cheers!
Breast wishes –