Oh summer and the joys you bring. I know what you’re thinking.
‘Vapid has some kind of serious neurosis about summer.’

Well my darling people you would be correct.

HOWEVER…
(and that is a big however if you didn’t notice)
I would love for it to be summer time all day every day year round.
Flowers bloom year round. Grass is always green. 
The business I am in, which may or may  not be hooking selling my soul to Satan in the name of dresses, booms in the summer.
Hell even though I hate bathing, the showers are even better in the summer.

The Dish and I have an outdoor shower that I think I may have spoken of at least once before but for the life of me right now I CAN NOT FIND IT in my archives so I am probably just crazy.

My problem with it is that I am not tall enough and the shower head is set so high that the only part of me that can get under it without washing my hair is my ass.  And yes even though it is a squeaky clean ass, it does need to be washed every now and then but, and that’s a big but (not a big butt mind you) I just don’t like to wash my hair EVERY day, the natural oils that build up act much like hair product so I am actually saving money by having dirty hair. 

Just try blow drying your hair in this 300,000 % humidity.
It’s pointless I tell you,

P O I N T L E S S!

I can blow dry my hair for an hour in the summer and the only thing that happens is I get sweat streaks running down my back, under my boobs and yes….in between my legs, which by the way is totally embarrassing.
“Hi everyone, just want to mention that I didn’t actually pee my pants, I am sweating…..

from my crotch.”

Back to the hair, which never really dries and by the time I give up it’s still damp, I am damp and the word damp is just gross.

(I swear I am not complaining about the warm weather I would so rather be damp
than frozen and crazy like I was this week.)

But whoa have I gotten really off topic and *big exhale* my point is I don’t often use the outdoor shower since I don’t often wash my hair and keeping it dry can not happen in the outdoor shower.

When I do use the outdoor shower though, I love it.
It doesn’t matter if it is raining, humid, chilly or hot and dry. Taking an outdoor shower is some how very liberating. Very sensual. Almost stimulating especially if someone pulls up the driveway…which actually hasn’t happened.
THANK FUCKING GOD!!!
(but is totally something that I panic about each and every time I use the outdoor shower)

I get to look at our garden.

  That I am so proud of since I never really thought I could actually grow anything. 
Sometimes before I hop in the shower I may do a little naked weeding.
*cue soft core porn music now*

But only a little because there are certain places that getting a mosquito bite is just altogether awkward so I scurry back to the shower only to

GET EATEN ALIVE BY AN ANACONDA!!!!

WHO DEFINITELY TELLS ME TO ‘BACK THE FUCK OFF OR I WILL EAT YOU ALIVE SO BAD YOU WILL WISH I WAS THE
MONGOLIAN DEATH WORM.’

 And from that moment on everything is a giant snake in the grass

TRYING. TO. KILL. ME.

ACCKKK!!!

Holy fuck balls!

Oh my god, oh MY GOD…what do I do, what do I do?

I
 run to the shower turn on the water, close my eyes and hope the giant beast hates water, that’s what I do. Because it’s a mother fucking snake that eats things whole and then sits there on a rock gloating with it’s belly full of whole human beings.

WHOLE HUMAN BEINGS!

 Then when I finally open my eyes to find the snake gone I grab my shampoo only to be attacked by 

A GIANT SPIDER! 

Who was probably watching the whole anaconda ORDEAL come down and thought ‘watch me scare the living shit out this chick, her nerves are probably all shattered by now. BWAHAAAHAAAAHAA!’

EWWWWWW!
*swats spider away while screeching like a cat in heat*

 So by the time I am ready for work I feel  like a snake ridden, spider nest with runny mascara and a damp crotch.

And I am sure I look like just like this…

I probably shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house under any circumstances….EVER!

From about 8:00 am until 12:08 pm yesterday I think I was actually breathing and not the kind that requires a brown paper bag in order to regulate it until you pass out kind of breathing. The good ole in and out kind. Sigh. What changed it? Fuckbook is what changed it, that’s what?

As I mentioned the other day (I will direct you to what I am referring to since I think the majority of you were wishing that you had no idea about A Vapid Blonde given your level of interest in that post, but I am needy and this is my blog so here you go…it is only the first paragraph that is relevant) The Dish’s birthday is this weekend and I am planning a fancy pants extravaganza and by fancy I mean everyone is required to wear pants for a good portion of the evening, after the lobster though, all bets or pants are off. Not sure which will happen first and as for extravaganza part I was thinking about setting up a slip and slide down the cliff over the rocks and through the bramble to get to the river that is FILLED with PCPs because I hear the high from PCPs is most excellent.

Back to my breathing issues which by the way have nothing to do with huffing paint okay? I just read The Dish’s status and it’s all about how excited he is for his birthday which sent me spiraling in to a pit of inadequacy and shame.
I. HAVE. NO. GIFT. FOR. HIM. 
Which if you actually went back and read the other post you would understand, this is an ongoing thing.  I am just wondering when he is going to realize that long johns, a shovel and a miners light are not actually spectacular gifts.

 I have a couple of things in mind that I can do….I just need to pull my head out of my ass which is a most challenging endeavor now that it is squarely lodged all up in there. I am going to work on my appearance so my first order of business will be to get my eagle like talons clipped so I can actually put on shoes for the evening or sleep under the covers with out fear of slicing open his femoral artery and having him bleed out on his birthday because that would be just awful.
‘Happy birthday honey, I got you a little death. I hope you enjoy it’ 

I am thinking about hiring an entertainer for the festivities and all I keep coming up with is a clown because The Dish  is way younger than me and then I keep thinking WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? What if he ends up really liking the clown and tries to do a LIVE re-enactment of  the clown porn movie you both just watched …in front of everyone? Talk about awkward!

One thing I have done well is enlisting F I N G E R B A N G to be Chef for the evening.  How in the world did I convince this culinary talent to work a Saturday Evening?…hand job pure powers of persuasive genius. That is how.

Here is the email I sent her:

Subject: Hi Fingerbang, you sexy bitch!

Is the buttering up working?  Yes, oh good. I have a little tale to tell of woe and money…or lack there of.
Seeing as the town has our house valued at over a shit ton of gold bricks (sounds dramatic don’t it) our tax bill is
fucking ridiculous.
To that end The Dish and I changed our plan for his birthday and I am cooking…or rather You and I are if you would
like to help me. If you don’t I understand, but we both love your cooking hmmm mmm mmm mmmm!
We could plan a fancy pants menu with like three fancy pants courses so that by the end of it we won’t be able to fit
in our fancy pants any more.
So you let me know if you, being the very hot number that you are, want to help me make dinner for him for his birthday.
There will be free booze, dancing girls and your very own pair of sequined panties in it for you.
xoxo

 Who could resist such an enticing invitation? NO ONE! That’s who.

And with all of this said I really need to get my Fuck on. Enjoy your weekend. I’ll either be on my hands and knees scrubbing the shit out of the floors, torturing the dogs with lobsters, or funneling entire bottles of wine.

CHEERS!

P.S. Go check out Culture Brats today (or everyday if you want to be one of the cool kids) my first post is up after 8:00 am.