Why, feast your eyes on the fruit of my thighs…
Is there anything like them? In this whole wide world?
Ya’ll, let’s be honest. At this point, I had decided I just didn’t have it in me.
I saw other blog children being borne, growing up, and well, I guess at some point I just accepted that my tree didn’t bear fruit. Plenty of nuts, but fruit? Nunya.
I’ll admit, it was hard not to be jealous. I remember when NAVY CPO dude was borne. I think I said something catty to Harvey. I’ve met Harvey! We were instant friends, I talked his head off! But still, when I saw another Bad Example Family member hitting the wires, I actually felt my blodge equipment wheeze in disgust. I thought, sheesh, someone needs to sterilize your ass, Harv.
I know. Bitter. There is no call for that type of stinking thinking. But I was a woman scorn. Realizing somehow my real life lacking in social skills had conveyed on over to my cyberlife, I gave up the dream. Figured, hell, I can’t have children the way I keep changing my addy every nine months. They might find me!
Camp BlownStar changed all that. Paul, CharlieDelta & Kerrcarto were instant brothers, natural blown-eyes. But it was there on the first night that I witnessed the bigger picture. The lurker bond I had fostered became a multiple blown-eyed birth. It sounds disgusting, I know, but believe me, every second was beautiful. (Especially once ole CD ripped off those cumbersome clothes and rejoined the party–Blessed Second Wind!!)
I met my blodge progeny. They are each really cool. They are all conservatives. They are funny as hell and they are some of the most persistent drunken mofos I have ever had the pleasure to hang with. I hope you will check em out (if you haven’t already) and if they offend you, well, big freaking surprise. You should hear the mouth on their mama!
And forgive me, Harvey, again, for previously thinking such terrible things when I truly adore your amish-like sprawl. It’s still not for me. Obviously, neglect is my number one blog instinct. I think we can safely strike this one up to just another mix up in the rustling of the leaves and the crackling of the lawn chairs. Chaos breeds.
But I do so love my blown-eyed boys. Now play nice, fellas! Watch the linky love. Be careful troll hunting and don’t forget to spell check. Someone around here should.