Ok, confession time.
I laugh at myself. And I’m not just talking about when I fall down. But I laugh then too. No, I’m talking about laughing at my own jokes. We aren’t supposed to admit such crimes against humanity. But I do it. And damn it, I’ll do it again.
How could I possibly deny the humor in botched bikini waxes, flooding the stove, or getting locked out of the house in my underwear? (And yes, that really did happen.)
I skim through my old blogs sometimes and just laugh until I cry. I pretend it wasn’t me struggling with a pair of homicidal pantyhose, or attempting to do contortionist type moves on a fireman’s pole (wait…back up…not a “fireman’s” pole…I’m referring to a pole like the one firemen slide down. You know what I mean.)
I just run through blogs and laugh. At me.
When I’m not laughing, I’m writing things that will make me laugh. And if it makes me laugh, I can only hope it will make you laugh too. I have the best job ever…even if I don’t get paid to do anything yet. I am a full time writer/blogger who laughs at herself all day long.
(Insert invitation for publishers/agents/writery types to snap me up immediately for full-time paid gig.)
In some alternate reality, you would likely find me locked in a padded cell where I would be pumped full of happy juice while being spoon-fed by men in white coats. All to keep me safe from the inevitable self-inflicted bikini wax.
But bumps, bruises and wax burns aside, I’m perfectly content to live where I am, juggling kids, pets, a husband, housework, writing, and life in general, all while somehow managing to stay upright...well mostly.
Until the next time…I’ll be saving the world, one giggle at a time.