It's Friday evening and I'm settling in with a glass of wine and some fly tunes. That's right; I said, "fly." Deal with it. Actually, I have fun dinner and comedy show plans tonight so I'm not "settling in" so much as "getting ready and drinking wine." Details.
You guys may not know this, but I'm ready for the month of 'eat no dead animals' to be over. Ray's Hell Burger, you'd better lock it up and have your shit together come Sunday evening. I ain't even playing. It's going to be a blur of hamburger, bloody juice running down chins, and sighs of orgasmic delight.
(I know a fierce debate has erupted over the serial comma and the necessity of that last comma in a list of items, but whatever. I'm a rebel. I'll comma if I want to.)
As I'm dancing around my apartment, getting all dolled up and whatnot, I'm wearing what is clearly the best t-shirt ever made. The Sister picked this up for me on her most recent trip to Canada. She did good.
Douchecanoe? How about BEAVER-canoe!
It doesn't matter that I'm thirty-fabulous, "beaver" will always make me giggle because... vaginas. (Are you uncomfortable Callton? VAGINAS! VAGINAS! VAGINAS!)
Anyway.
July will be here in two days and I want all of you haters -- those of you collapsing into charming little puddles of laughter at the mere mention of my 'no swearing' month -- to know that I will prove all of you wrong. Crow, you shall eat. In the meantime: fuckity, fuck, fuck, bastard, shit, motherfucker, wine, damn, vaginas, bollocks. Fuck.
Four more days until ... MEAT PARTY! It's going to be the funnest party. Maybe only for me, but whatever. MEEEEAT! July 1st, hamburgers, bacon, who's with me? Maybe a half-smoke for dessert? Don't make me enjoy my meat alone, friends.
(You were thinking a different kind of meat party, weren't you? Get your minds out of the gutter, readers! I keep a clean, tight ship, you filthy animals.)
(That being said, I want to make a joke here about having a meat party in someone's pants, but that seems inappropriate, so I'll refrain.)
(Or maybe something about a "hot beef injection".)
(That's what she said.)
...
And after the meat ingestion, we start the month of no swearing. I'd like to share a conversation I had with my sister the other night regarding the upcoming challenge:
Kristy: So, do you want me to point out when you swear?
Heather: Well, yeah.
Kristy: Every time? You're going to have to do so many embarrassing things.
Heather: Wow, thanks for all the faith in me, sister. I'M NOT GOING TO SWEAR! Go to your room!
Kristy: Oooookay.
My sister is a skeptical jerk. If she wasn't so pretty... (I don't know how to finish that sentence.)
Brain-storming ideas for punishment (which I won't have to worry about because I'm not going to swear), I thought of the tried and true swear jar, but the problem with that is I'd just be giving money back to myself, which isn't much of an incentive. I could give it to charity, but if I swear at all (which I'm not going to), it will only happen once or twice (it's NOT going to happen) and then, what? I'm going to slide the charity of my choice a crisp, cool $1 bill? No.
I think I should have to do something public and shaming. For example, I dance like a white girl: with a lot of enthusiasm, lip biting and awkward gyrations. My dancing feet have got no rhythm. (I'm never gonna dance again ... Heather's feet have got no rhythm...) As punishment for swearing (the swearing I'm not going to do), I could follow in Jimmy Fallon's footsteps and attempt to do the "Cat Daddy" a la Kate Upton.
The original dance (don't be afraid, there's no nudity here):
With Jimmy:
Shoot, even Kate looks a little awkward in that video, but, you know, she looks like that, so it doesn't really matter what she's doing; she will still be ridiculously hot.
"Next up, Kate Upton cleans out a litter box."
<10,000,000 views>
I'll get my groove on, video it, upload it to my blog and brace for mockery. I think this is a pretty solid deterrent.
What do you think, my tens of readers? Any other ideas for me?
