happy endings.

I like Halloween, I like spending too much money on overpriced candy, I like sitting out on the front porch in a hoodie handing said candy out to all the littles, I like watching them run away with excitement, I like when my brother in law gives the way-too-old-for-this-shit teens a hard time about their lack of a costume and pillowcase bag, really? and you can't even say trick or treat? I like dressing up--reigning champ three years in a row say what? ladybug, glorious. bumble-bee, fabulous. Snookie, *insert your own jersey shore reference here* With Halloween approaching, at dinner one night I asked Lily what she would like to be. Her answer? a Christmas tree. After my eyes dried from laughing, I was all "really, Lily? a Christmas tree?" and she's all "yes, seriously." What? previous years ladybug and cat aren't up to par with your glorious idea of pine and presents? I'm not Chinese master sewer, where would one even find a pattern, do people really want to be Christmas trees for stuff? Yes, yes they do. Google is the answer to all life's questions, you don't know something about something, you google the shit out of it. Its like the holy grail of life, well to me anyway. Lo and behold, there are toddler Christmas tree costumes for a mere $49.99, complete with star, hole for face and presents as feet. Awesome. Just as I was really getting excited with this and all runnin' at the mouth with "think I won't order it" to my husband, she up and changes her mind. This is not ok, as unsure as I was about the Christmas tree idea, I really set out and embraced it and I just don't think I can settle for a bumble bee now. I will convince her and bring her back to the pine side, oh I will. Totally kidding, she can be whatever her little heart desires but don't think I won't leave the tree costume pictures all around the house covered in glitter to accent how freaking awesome it is.

I also just really like covering things in glitter.

We'd gotten two notices on our door from FedEx this week  that we had a package that had to be signed for. We thought by him leaving the notice that we could just sign the notice, put it back on the door and he'd swap the notice for the package. Turns out you have to sign for it in person. Problem is, he comes at 1:30, when the rest of the world is also, at work. We weren't even expecting a package so I got really excited, it must be a real treasure to need an in-person signature! My husband called to find out what exactly this treasure was and how we go about getting it, we weren't trying to drive all the way to FedEx in Fredericksburg for some mystery package that probably wasn't even for us. Turns out, it was for me! I love surprises! My excitement stops when they soon tell us, the are concert tickets. Concert tickets I ordered last Thursday for this Saturday's concert, I'd been expecting them in the regular ol' snail mail. Really? You need an in-person signature for Brad Paisley LAWN SEAT tickets? I didn't even pay for a seat, I stand in the lawn. Per the ticket company its their protocol to need someone in person so they would re-route the package to my work and mark it 'rush' and I should get it today. If not to call and they could give me a time frame of when they deliver Saturday. Awesome, I love coming into work on a Saturday just to sign for a package. This better make the $11 jiffy lube live beer taste like unicorns and rainbows 'cause I imagine that would be glorious.

I also just really like beer.

Random bits from this week:

People need not leave me in a waiting room for too long, self help pamphlets on being "addicted to porn" or "is the church leader touching you" make me giggly, thus making the serious meeting with a grin on my face, awkward. I laugh when I'm uncomfortable, thus making the majority of my encounters awkward. That's why I could never be a vagina doctor, or a butt doctor for that matter. I also have yet to get a bikini wax This has been on my list of to-do's, right next to paint the basement, for a year now. Take off your pants giggle, lay down and spread 'em wide giggle, rips hair follicles from my very sensitive area laughs uncontrollably. I wonder if they have experienced this type of wax-ee. I'm pretty sure they would talk about how awesome I am.

Warrenton has a 'happy ending' massage parlor. Seriously. One of my clients uses them and I know its an 'erotic' massage parlor because I did what was natural and googled it. Yep, I even categorized his expenses for the place as 'entertainment' so he knows I know. I'm slightly intrigued by it and slightly grossed out, but more grossed out then intrigued, that was a lie. I really want to know how you ask for a 'happy ending'. My husband suggested using the line "I want to blow some money...and a load" I almost pissed my pants laughing so hard, well, I probably did, when you have kids your bladder ain't what she used to be. Anyway, apparently $73 gets you a rub down in every sense of the word. And you know it ain't no Asian goddess givin' you the rub down, I'm sure its a little old Asian lady who probably can't even see which is why she's in this line of work anyway wearing a pair of rubber gloves, gettin' you down with the get down. I need to know, I feel like I need to send my husband in just to get the scoop and scope out the penis masseuse, not for any other reason than to tell our grandchildren this story. Hide yo' kids, Lily!

My weekend is going to be a good one, it's fat Friday and we're having pizza and watching Step Brothers at our best friends house and I'm going to spend far too much time Saturday curling my hair and putting make-up on for my once a year outing with my Brad Paisley girls. Have a glorious weekend, bloggy friends!