Hayzeus it’s been a long time. I meant to blog while in Cali, but it was non-stop action the entire time.
My back went “out” just before we left and just today it went back “in”. Even with a visit to the chiropractor, I hobbled around for three weeks. Looks like I just needed my own bed.
We got home late Friday after a very long flight. Sparky and I spent the weekend in bed, napping and watching two seasons of Gilmore Girls. We needed a vacation after our vacation.
Sparky is working in Hamburg today and I had my first day of class. I made it to level four and managed to forget everything I just spent three months learning. Tomorrow should be fun.
Speaking of German class, that chick Anya with the böse Onkel came back. I thought she was one of his new chickadees. I only saw her from behind as she jumped out of the BMW Z4 cabrio. Her thigh high boots, skin tight jeans and cropped white fur jacket confused me for a second, but once I caught a frontal view, I saw her bare stomach muscles in –4°C weather and I knew it was Anya.
I’m totally jealous. I would love to dress hooker-chic. I don’t have the body for it. I would end up looking more like trailer park/Doritos chic and that is so over.
It’s more than the body; it’s the clothes. Where does one find these clothes? I’m serious. Thigh high black boots and jeans that fit in them without ruining the thin line of her leg, where do you find these? Amazing. The cropped, white fur jacket, nothing says hooker better. This isn’t your typical sexy wear to be found in sex shops. This stuff is authentic.
Man, matched with the Wet ‘n Wild icy pink lipstick and you have a walking piece of pop culture.
Anyway, I have loads of laundry and a ton of “stuff” to put away. Where does this stuff come from and how the hell did I manage to pack it all? I think there is a stuff bug one picks up while traveling. It just keeps shitting “stuff” until you get home and put it all away. The longer you’re gone, the more it produces.
I have a million of stories to tell so this week I will post a new one everyday. We have miniature horses, polluting the Canadian wilderness, Irish coffees and washed out roads. There’s the meeting of a fellow blogger and his tall Kraut. Then there’s my gay boyfriend, coffee, cigarettes and the memory of long gone single days. Add a sister, a brother, a husband, large firearms and a loopy poodle and let me tell you, it’s a barrel of laughs.
So forgive my uninspired jet-lagged writing and come back tomorrow.