Several times in the last few months things have happened. Private things. Hysterical things. After I finish wiping the tears from my eyes and the Husband's snickers die down he will announce, "You should put that in your blog." This will cause me to look at him like several furry woodland creatures are peeking out of his ears. The conversation will inevitably end with the title of this post being spewed out of my mouth in rancid shock. "I'm sure you could make it appropriate. And it would be so funny!" he will encourage.
At this point, having somewhat recovered my faculties, I will begin the construction of said post in my head, framing in subtle allusions and allegorical characters, nailing down euphemisms, and trying to paint hilarious pictures without any imagery at all. ...
And then I think of all the people, people I know, complete strangers, clergy and saints, the prim and proper, decent, law-abiding folk who just want to go through life knowing that they are slightly better than someone (and I, happy to oblige, will be that someone for them). I think of you, and I just can't write it. Hives start bursting forth on my chest. My throat goes dry. I blush.
What kind of blog am I running here? I already posted about my red undies; isn't that enough?!?!
I would say, "My pastor's wife reads this blog!", but that is less scandalous an indictment than you would imagine. If I were to say, "My former pastor's wife reads this blog!" then we would have a problem. They are just different folk, not better nor worse, just from different worlds. My pastor's wife actually wrote out the phrase condom mobile in a board game at our women's retreat. Our former pastor's wife only wears dresses to church. When our former pastor's wife came over for dinner I hid our copy of Firefly. When our current pastor's wife came over her husband pointed enthusiastically, and she said, "That is awesome!" Our pastor has a small Serenity replica on his key chain. Somewhere deep inside me, joy blooms.
But these are things that no clergyman nor his significant other could read without blushing.
How do you post the hysterical story of how the bed was broken when good christian women read this blog? How do you post the saga of yeah football does it for us when your mom is going to see it? And how do you relay the epic lube theft caper when one day your daughter might look back at these blogs, shriek "I did what?", and then need very intensive, very expensive therapy for the rest of her known life?
I'm just saying, this is a family-friendly blog. But we really don't live a family-friendly life.
I do not even know where to begin. I mean, first, you ask what kind of a blog you're running and then you throw me under the bus with CONDOM MOBILE? And, if I remember correctly, I didn't write the word. I DREW THE PICTURE. And it was a GOOD picture! Second, for better or worse, you portrayed me pretty well. Except, seriously, I can't think of anything that really makes me blush. Wait. I can. I'll private message you. Third, I TOTALLY HAVE MY OWN LUBE THEFT BUT IT WON'T EMBARRASS ANY OF MY KIDS BECAUSE IT WAS THE DOG. And he consumed it all. The end.
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