Along with being a spy I think I am a vampire. I hate garlic. Please don’t leave me because of this. Garlic actually makes me sick. Not in the ‘you useless piece of shit Garlic, what have you ever done with your life’ kind of way but more in the ‘I think I am about to give birth to an alien through my chest cavity’ kind of way when I eat it. I know you are thinking ‘hey Vapid, you just have an allergy’.  To that I will counter, what about my excellent sense of smell?  …..yes I will wait for you to figure that out. AND if you remember I also had a fang. Yes, a fang, so put all these things together and I have to feel that the evidence is irrefutable.  Combine all that with the fact that all I wanted to do was hide in my closet (the only room in the house without a window) all fucking weekend and BAM….Vampire!  There you have it.I am going to make such a kick ass gang leader vampiric blood sucking spy,  its insane.

I just need to figure out a way to get out of the closet on sunny days. In fact this past weekend I did indeed go outside I just took a super duper courage pill that actually allowed me to go outside with out bursting into flames and much to my chagrin I really enjoyed the sunshine.

Go figure.

I was immediately drawn back into the shadows however, contemplating the secret of A Vapid Blonde.

Like the late in the day shadows this secret is getting long and drawn out. 
(like how I created that hallmark kind of imagery there? yeah I just patted my self on the ass and winked at myself)

I dislike secrets so when I was presented with not so much a question as a statement of either/or  I chose to say or. And by that I mean I let my MOTHER in on a part of my secret.

AVB: Yes Mom, I write a blog. It’s a humor blog

Mom: I don’t know what that means.

AVB: Well it’s a HUMOR BLOG and I have an advertiser…they are a sex toy blog.

Mom: I have to go.
(the reason she HAD to go: *loud whisper* SEX)

AVB: And I am going to a blogging conference in NYC in August.

Mom: You be careful. I have to go. I love you good bye.
(the reason she HAD to go now: because you all are Internet zombies who are going to leave me chopped up in a gutter in NYC after you eat my brains and steal my soul at Blogher)

AVB: I love you too, Bye.

Dialing back her phone immediately.

AVB: Do me a favor and don’t tell Brother. He won’t get it. And don’t ask me the address.

Mom: I won’t say anything and I don’t want to know the site address, I don’t want to read it.

So while I didn’t tell her who I am online, she knows I write a blog and that I have a fucking potty mouth, and that I have a secret that I am tired of keeping to myself.

I fucking enjoy writing here. In fact I fucking love it. And I will continue to do so. With as much candor as I can muster.  And with that I am almost out of my blogging closet which is good since it was getting stuffy in the closet with all the clothes and shoes and shit I have stored in there. 

And with lovely surprises like being featured on Mom Dots Top 100 Mom Blogs I need to start preparing for a future of  living in the public eye…or something, don’t you think? Man,  there are some heavy dutly rockstar Mom’s on that list!

(I know. I am not a mom but some how I finagled my way on to the list at # 64…maybe it is the fact that I feel like I am giving birth to an alien from my chest cavity when I eat garlic.)

So The Dish has lots of  obessions. Of course one of those obsessions is me but we are not talking about me at the moment. We are talking about The Dish. Its also not about the basket load of lube that I won and all the things that are NOT going to happen with it.  No its much worse:

(I bet you didn’t believe me about this whole Morgan Freeman thing. I also bet you didn’t know that Morgan Freeman is actually a 5′ 4″ white woman…Like I said he’s a sneaky fucker!)

He’s worn me down folks…worn me right the fuck down. So we are trading in our rather fussy high priced escort,

for a down and dirty hooker because I am still in the middle of that meltdown you know. Which by the way is moving right along. I crossed off #2 and soon I will be able to cross #3 off the list but instead of a sexy convertible I guess I am getting a stripped down shiny black car with….T FUCKING TOPS! Oh yeah T-tops baby. I am so going out and buying The Dish a mesh tank top and a gold Italian horn an making him wear them WHEN EVER we drive this pretty hot rod of a ride.

There is however one last piece to this awesome picture. I just need to convince The Coquette to do it for me because I think it is high time I start rockin’ this look again!!!!