With Thanksgiving coming rapidly, I thought I would take the time out to tell you about the things in my life I’m thankful for, since I bitch so much about everything else.
Anderson Cooper. You light up my life. You make me have to make a conscious decision to turn off reality TV and turn on CNN to catch the important stories of the day. I can hear an intelligent conversation, and still get lost in your baby blues. You made grey hair SEXY. Were it not for you, I would have a blank space on my wall at work where I hang your beautiful face. Aside from Andy, you are my second longest relationship with a man. I don’t care about the naysayers that try to tell me that you are gay…. SHHHHH….baby, don’t speak. I don’t need to know details, because this works in my head, and it works in my marriage. And I know where you live. (Wink.)
I am thankful that I don’t have any food allergies. I shed a tear for those poor souls who can’t eat peanut butter, gluten, chocolate or dairy…for what is a world without these things? I don’t know how it would be possible to go on, or even why you would want to.
I am thankful that I have a car. Because it would suck to have to walk two miles to work. Even though I abuse it verbally every time I have to dump more money in to it, and punch the door when the window won’t go up because the kids have superglued the childproof button with sticky candy. Because, I don’t want to be a “scrub”, and I have an innate distrust of people who exercise intentionally.
I am thankful for Gordon Ramsey and his band of Waffle-House-cook-rejects on Hell’s Kitchen to watch for two solid hours on Wednesday nights. I wouldn’t let you moron’s make me eggs and toast, and yet you have the chance to run a restaurant with a 6-figure paycheck. Without you, cooking wouldn’t be as potentially violent, nor would be considered a spectator’s sport. You make me wish I could pull off saying words like, "Bloody" and “Bollux” and not sound like a jackass, and wish that I had an English accent.
I am thankful that even though I am fat, my boobs are proportional to my body. In fact, they are really big. No, they aren’t fake. It’s just more fat. But it’s in a place that works for me. Because there is just nothing sadder than when you are fat and flat-chested. It’s like an anomaly in the universe of fairness.
I am thankful that I am moving away from upstate NY. Because I can’t take another winter of getting out of bed an hour earlier every day to dig my car out of snow, trying too hard to make friends with people who just don’t get “it”, having nothing more interesting to do than spend exciting Saturdays at Walmart, and getting out of a place that is only now just getting an Olive Garden.
Shameless Begging About to Commence: I was nominated on Babble's Top 50 Mom Blogs List. So can you please take two minutes and click here: http://www.babble.com/babble-50/mommy-bloggers/nominate-a-blogger/index.aspx then scroll down to "Glamorous Life" and click on the "like" button.
Thanks a bunch!