Okay, I know I promised to reveal all that is “Frenemy” in my life today, but something came up.

We were at dinner and I was showing the boys at the table my friend Crissy’s blog, because in it she had a “Nut Bra” video from You Tube and it was actually relevant to a conversation that we were having regarding what happens AFTER some surgeries and not to divulge too much, but SOMEONE, we’ll call him “Moe”, was revealing A LOT over a couple of wines and some ribs.

Anyway, it made me think of this:

Now besides the fact that Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are running around with AXES and eating entire CAKES, and making out with DOGS, the boys thought the best part is that a side effect might be the growth of a 2nd vagina.

Yes.

I could be completely mental with a tail and sporting some Lizzie Borden accessories, but add in a 2nd va-jay-jay, and it’s all cool.

boys. r. dumb.

So I have been thinking about my very celebrity life…you know, wiping bottoms–or at least keeping markers out of them, laundry, cooking, cleaning, my very glamorous job in the cosmetics industry, blog writing, movie watching, wine drinking (or vodka, or alcohol…who’s picky?), book reading, etc.–and I have come up with a list of actresses who I think should consider playing me in my autobiographical movie, “Is this too much gloss?”.

Here they are, in no specific order:

Drew Barrymore: because she smells good…even Oprah says so!

Jessica Rabbit: because she’s not bad…she’s just drawn that way.

Caroline Rea: because she looks like me.

Kathleen Turner: because she is my kind of mom.

Meg Ryan: because the majority of the 90’s I bleached & cut in her honor.

John Travolta: because she brings out my sparkling personality.

Kathy Griffin: because she is one funny bee-atch.

Wonder Woman: because so much of my days are a balance only worthy of bullet repelling bracelets, a magic lasso, invisible jet, super high jumps, a fantastic 3-turn spinning transformation, and let’s face it…she has my thighs.

So here’s what’s up:

The Dainty Flower is giving me mixed messages and now I’m anxiety ridden.

In one breath she is explaining how only girl mosquitoes bite people and that boy mosquitoes drink pollem, yes, with an “m” and it’s so cute that I don’t have the heart to tell her that a. it’s polleN, and b. they really drink nectar, and the next minute she is smearing herself with hot fudge and calling herself a sundae.

Then, at dance class…There is tons of cuteness in the costume…but instead of twirling and gracefulness during soothing classical music, we think it’s way more fun to hang on the bar, disrupt the class by running around, and tell everyone to move “faster, FASTER!” with the voracity of Debbie Allen in Fame. (We stopped attending and strangely the teacher has not BEGGED us to come back yet.)

Cooking with Mommy is always fun. She is able to hull and cut strawberries (with a knife mind you, ’cause we have MAD skills) and I am glowing with pride…yet when I turn around she is crying because she tried to put the tops in her eyes to have “strawberry eyes” and now the juice is stinging them.

At bathtime she is able to wash, play, and entertain herself for an hour–”Go away Mommy!”–and then I turn to look and she is sucking on her soapy washcloth fresh from a good bottom scrubbing.

She can name every color in her crayola box, yet wonders why they all taste the same…

She raids my tampon box and uses them as microphones…

……………………………………………………*sigh*………………………………………………………..

So here’s the thing…

Exactly where is the line that divides thinking “outside the box” genius or just retardation?

I am certified in Special Education and I don’t have an answer.

Everyone thinks that their child is “gifted”, and yet, are the Special Ed classrooms not teeming over?

I’m thinkin’ that the line between Forrest Gump and Einstein isn’t very wide at all.

However, if asked, The Dainty Flower is obviously gifted.

So she enjoys the many stinks of her body, loves putting random objects in her nose, licking people, and has walked around the house naked carrying a marker in her butt.

She’s just gifted comedically.

Now I just have to find the preschool attached to the “Laugh Factory” and I’ll be all set…

I have literally died and gone to heaven. Sweet baby Jesus, I have seen it all!

Today, at a picnic, I was privy to the “dressy wife beater.”

Oh, life is complete.

Here’s the commentary in my head:

“And next we have Mike, ready for any redneck romp. This silky number is a must have for any event, from tractor pull to WWE front row seat. Don’t let it fool you though, this is 100% pure polyester–why look how it clings to his beer belly…you can tell he’s worked hard on that one! Paired with Levi’s in a light blue vintage stonewash jean (circa 1987) you can be sure that he’s tailgating with the best of the Bud drinkers on his way to the next “Whitesnake” concert. Finally, check out the accessories– 100 keys hooked onto his belt loop that jingle every time he takes a step. No misstep here Mike…that’s pure country.”

This was not your ordinary Hanes 100% cotton number.

I don’t think I even need to talk about the missing tooth do I?

I so wish I could have taken a picture…But the imprint will be forever tattooed on my brain.

These are the sweet moments I live for!

I guess I’m having a week of introspection. And after much pondering I have decided to come clean…I have a crush on William Shatner.

To clarify, it’s not the young Star Trekking Bill that I’m after. I find him too pompous, and a man-whore. At the very least, too much tribble, I mean, trouble.

TJ Hooker? What can I say, I’m not into cops. Based on photos, it would seem that I was not the only 80’s puffy hair victim, and he’s very serious–I realize that sliding across car hoods and doing cop things isn’t all fun, but you’re starring with Heather Locklear for goodness sake…and where is Adrian Zmed now anyway? But I digress…

Ahh, here he is. You see, it’s the Over-the-Hill, proud toupee wearing, Boston Legal acting, self-deprecating, pudgy, almost retiree that I’m after…..referred to lovingly by The Boy as, “The Shat”.

Okay, let’s do the rundown: He’s rich, famous, funny, reasonably good looking, an author, entrepreneur and singer–and he’s Bill Shatner! He’s his own lounge act! Who could ask for anything more?!

Nothing made me smile more than seeing him hobble across Oprah’s stage (just coming from a hip replacement) and listen to how he Tivo’s her and now looks at his own poop thanks to Dr. Oz.

He’s adorable.

Is it just me, or are there others out there in cyberspace WITHOUT any tattoos? Please make yourself known!

Good Grief.

Here are some of my personal, south of the Bible Belt, favorites:

1. A pair of legs with red high heels–one on the inner arm, one down the body, all leading to some idiot’s hairy armpit…….nice. Can’t you just hear “Sweet Home Alabama” in the background?

2. Picture it: White Guy, both calves, WHITE on one, POWER on the other…as a sidenote, his ASIAN wife walking proudly beside him wearing a strip club tee-shirt and his daughter was a beautiful blend of the 2 morons……there are so many people that want babies, yet these a$%*&!@’s have no problem pro-creating…hmm, because of the irony of the situation, does that make them oxymorons?

3. Looney Tunes……why do people seem to think that Yosemite Sam, the Tasmanian Devil, or Tweety Bird belong on their body forever?

4. Disney Characters……no word of a lie, I JUST saw a 6-8 diameter Holiday Wreath, on yet another calf, with Mickey, Minnie, Donald, & Pluto wishing Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas FOREVER. Maybe it’s a Florida thing.

5. Spiderweb Elbows & Teardrops…..I know that some fool will probably come after me on this one, but SERIOUSLY?!

6. Panthers, with claws, crawling up arms and legs…..ring, ring, clue phone–no one buys this s*&$ for a minute AND it looks like crap.

7. Profanity on your arm or knuckles forever…..I guess the upside is that it is usually spelled correctly.

8. Skulls with vampire teeth and other hellish icons…..perfect for holding your sweet baby in christening photos.

9. Your NAME…..are you honestly so dumb that you need a permanent “Hello, My Name Is” on your BODY?!

10. The tramp stamp…..how many of these uninteresting smears am I going to have to look at–only bettered when accompanied by a whale-tale thong popping out under your muffin top.

I know that there are more fine specimens–feel free to comment and enlighten me.

Maybe I’m in a mood today, but seriously–take a picture and build a scrapbook of memories to keep at home. I don’t care that you’re “Born to be Wild” or that you want snakes coming out of eye sockets in skulls on your arm to be the 1st impression of you. If you need to remember names, keep an address book on you or check your cell phone.

While shows like LA Ink might be fun to watch for the freak factor and, to be honest, the talent of the artists, I find the majority of ink on the everyday individual to be mundane and mainstream–and isn’t that the opposite of what it’s supposed to be?

And don’t even get me started on the pathology of the pain of the needle associated with a “Good Memory”…..

Maybe I’m completely wrong.

Maybe my NOT having any tatt’s means I have commitment issues because I can’t think of one picture I want on my body forever.

Maybe I’m just afraid that today’s Betty Boop will be tomorrow’s Betty Droop.

Maybe I’m the freak here……but maybe I’m not.