“Andi. I’m Andi.”
Then he shoves the candy basket between his hip and elbow and holds out his free hand—the one not holding my crushed coffee cup—and says, “Nice to meet you, Andi.”
“You too.” I shake his hand, my body jolting with shocks and aftershocks, but I don’t say his name aloud. My mind may be singing his name, but my lips refuse to form it.
Finally, I grab the girls’ hands and hightail it out of there, resisting the urge to turn and see him walk away. I’m almost certain he has a perfect ass, but I want to make sure.
My head refuses to listen and turns.
Yep, he should really consider some action photos from behind ... of him grilling.
MommyX3has to send her triplets to private school.Awww.Public school isn’t the right place for her precious spawn. So what if they’re small in stature? They’re smarter than the average first-grader ... so, parochial school, here they come.
Never mind last week’s post when one of the three wise men didn’t get a trophy in kiddie soccer. In their new school, all their needs will be met, including all of them will be receiving regular trophies.
I digress.
Of course, to pay for school,MommyX3is peddling some fancy juice cleansing system, guaranteed to make you drop ten pounds in the first month, and then you switch to maintenance mode. Apparently, its special ingredients help you cleanse the water retention right the heck out of your system. You can grab a six-month supply for only FOUR dollars per day (as much as a Starbucks!), or you can joinMommy’steam and become a bigger part of her pyramid scheme.
Or you can simply learn how to eat. Or join Weight Watchers. Or even better, do what Doodlelicious is doing with vinegar and lemon juice.
Happy cleansing,
The UnAffectionate Blogger
Frugal Shoofly commented:
Thanks for picking out all the BS. I don’t mean harm to this mom and her kids’ education, but why pay $4 a day when there’s a solution for pennies on the dollar. I’m sick of the schemes.
Also, thanks for the great deal on laundry soap last month. I clicked through your ad, and it was ah-mazing! I’m good on detergent through the end of the year.
A few days after Halloween, I’m sitting with my laptop resting on my Hello Kitty-clad extended legs, furry slippers on my feet and the news flickering on the TV. Yep, I’m drinking warm water, lemon, honey, and vinegar because I’ve now met Reid, and while he doesn’t know I’m alive ... my libido is wide awake.
Wide.
Freaking.
Awake.
Right now, there’s some innate need in me to find a man and shag him.
If I’m honest, it’s more than a need. I’d say it’s a drive to satiate myself so fierce and strong, like a bee to honey or a dog to a raw steak.
Give me a man and let me have my way with him.
Any man, but Reid is the best choice.
So I’m writing, reading, flushing my system, and wondering if I can make it to next Halloween to satisfy my craving.
When else will I see Reid?
Um, never.
The rest of the day pushes on. I go for my run, grab Gabby, make dinner, and play on the internet. Leona comes by after we eat and delivers brownies. First, she wants me to meet someone, and now she sabotages me with her full-fat double-chocolate-chunk brownies. The chewy kind, still warm, chunks of chocolate still gooey—the apple cider vinegar’s effort long dismissed.
After Gabby goes to sleep, I slide into my lonely queen-size bed for one, my belly stuffed with brownies and my mind chock-full of bad ideas.
Listening to my naughty brain, I open my laptop and type his website into the browser. My fingers graze the keys with care and finesse as if he can see what I’m doing. I know this is what he would want. His blog is an extension of him, and I treat it with the utmost respect and care as though I were caressing his arm.
