Dear Screwed Up Texan,
How did you get to be so fabulous?
A. Well, to answer your most intriguing and inward looking inquiry, my friend, I'd have to say that my fabulousness comes from my ability to do many things that normal people just simply cannot. For instance, how many people do you know who are double-jointed/hyper-extensive in at least nine different places on their bodies? Better yet, how many people do you know who can fit themselves inside a suitcase after giving birth to three children as a talent and be proud of it?
That's what I thought.
Oh, and I have a pointed left ear. Beat that.
I'd end my discourse on my coolness here, but I'd rather not since I just looked in the mirror and my head hasn't quite swollen that big yet. Not that my head needs to get bigger since face masks already don't fit me all that well (and Halloween is coming up so I have to keep this in check, mmm kay?).
I hear some people think I am fabo because I have this awesome ability to annoy peacemakers and pacify angry turds. Case in point: a couple years ago a frumpy lady at the super cool Smacky D's in my neighboring town had the nerve to yell at me for not taking one of my children into the bathroom with me and his brother while his brother left a contribution for the town. She had the nerve to tell me that I was a terrible parent. A mouthful of angry words back to her for not minding her own business while I took care of business had her stomping out of Smacky D's before the door could smack her back on the rear. See, I'm a problem solver. Add that to my resume.
Most of all, I think my superb fabulousness comes from indulgence in my homemade apple pies. Really.
Go ahead, make yourself some...then one day you might be like me (and that may or may not be a good thing).
Now a Question from Me: How did you get to be so fabulous?