Check out my article justin-bieber-news.info spent Friday night hanging out with the Jenners and Kardashians at Riccardo Tiscis birthday bash in Ibiza. Shooting Stars: Central Oregonians on the Rise in Central Oregon Magazine. I love writing profiles and had a blast writing this one about some truly inspirational people.
What’s with the Angel sticker on the car, you ask?
For Christmas, my sister pimped her husband’s ride. A 1990’s era Honda Accord done up in dragon, skull/crossbone, and angel/devil motif is one hot ticket, let me tell you. The stuffed animals in the back window were priceless, the Hooters tee-shirts pulled over the seats a stroke of brilliance.
I wish she were my wife.
We laughed so hard we cried, which, maybe this is just me talking, really should happen more often during the holidays. Perhaps pimping a ride should become a Christmas tradition, far more tasty than eggnog, far more productive than getting drunk and yelling and sobbing.
Not that we’ve ever done that.
And we’ve never really liked eggnog.
Yep, that’s how we roll, from now on. Keep an eye on your car on Christmas Eve, unless you have been longing for your own set of fuzzy dice….
Me: I’m sorry, baby. But she gets to be what she wants.
Noodle: If our brother were alive, he’d be the prince.
Me: Yeah, maybe.
Noodle: And there would be more of us to play when we play Crazy 8’s.
Noodle: It’s not fair.
Me: (Thinking a: big brother might actually be more inclined to make her be the slave in the dungeon in his own masochistic play than be her prince, and b: if he was alive, she would never have been born, instead I simply say…)
(Because it isn’t, really)
In related news, at the Christmas dinner table…
Chicken Little to Grandpa (sadly): Our brother died.
Grandpa: I heard.
Little: He was born too late.
Grandpa (lovingly): I know, I heard.
…and here all along I’d been thinking that I was the one born too late. Am I the only child of the 70s who wished she was born in time to enjoy the freewheeling 60s?
I always wanted a big brother, too.
This all makes me think about how pining away for the impossible brings with it a powerful element of fantasy. You can project whatever you want onto that blank slate. Kind of like writing a novel. Hmmm….