Dance 10, Looks 3

So I needed a new door.  Remember:  you can either have a million children or a million dollars, you cannot have both.  So, Brother Neil installed a solid slab door that was fairly inexpensive but was also unfinished.  Initially, I thought I’d paint it white, despite the aforementioned million children.  It rapidly became apparent that this was an error in judgement, so I got out the handy dandy internet and googled door colors for a brick house.  I settled on burgundy because I thought it would look nice.  Yes, my friends, the whore of Babylon just painted her front door red.   It looks like hell, despite waiting between coats and everything.  It is my current belief that the extreme 90 degree temperatures at the end of September might be the culprit, (No global warming here, folks) so I’m waiting until the weekend.  Here’s my Whore Door:

While I was outside taking that picture, I heard a group of girls teasing one another… I don’t know entirely what it was about, but the words “tits and ass” were clearly heard and dammit, now that song from A Chorus Line is in my head.  Grab a cab, c’mon, see the wizard on Park and Seventy-third…I want plastic surgery.  Honestly, if I had more cash I’d probably get a whole lot of work done… starting with my eyes and working my way down.  A whole lot of the time it’s not how you feel, it’s how you look… At least if you’re a single, approaching middle aged woman. APPROACHING.  I’m not there yet.  Guys don’t have this problem, because no matter how they look, they feel good.  Note to self:  Must work out this utter personal satisfaction.  Also, find a way to eradicate the song trolls in your brain.  And lose twenty pounds.  Bitch.

Just to top off my day, I needed to go to open house for my nine-year-old.  Remember, I have Tits and Ass, bought myself a fancy pair going through my head while I’m plastering a fake smile on my face because I know hardly anyone in the room and this is the 947th time I’ve been to an open house.  Not much changes and I continue to know where the exits are.  I got through the whole thing, incident free and then…. I just had to say hello to the teacher.  A parent I know, who seems like a nice enough guy, is trying to take a picture of something and the teacher pulls me over and announces, “Oh, he’s taking a picture!!”  A hush falls over the room.  That poor bastard starts just panicking… No, no, that’d be creepy… I’m not taking her picture…and that was awkward.  It’s the sort of thing I never really know how to maneuver.  Better, yet… I need to call this guy in the near future about a project I’m working on.  Awesome.

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