No One Talks About My Thirst.

These days,  you can't seem to throw an extra comma into a sentence without hitting the well meaning advice of others. For example, I personally like to serve my children dinner while twirling a baton, but, I bet there are some anti-baton twirling parents out there just waiting, in my bushes, or in the pile of dried wipes and coffee cups on the floor of my van, to jump up and tell me that batons have been known to cause concussions. Well sure, but, if you haven't caused a concussion, clearly you didn't throw the baton high enough. Attempting a grilled cheese plating and quadruple spin is tricky even with acoustic ceilings. If you miss the catch and no concussion occurs, you have some work to do on your power throws. Rookies.

My current favorite thing to do to invite scorn and disgruntled, angry eyes is to emphatically state how much I enjoy my evening glass of wine or cocktail. This bunches an amazing amount of freshly pressed pantaloons. In between sips of my delightful wine, I adjust my glasses and take special note to not listen to any of the impassioned cries urging me to enjoy my children uninhibited by numbing agents. In response to these pleas I say, do you even have children or have you just seen them in passing? I also say, I've gotten quite comfortable in this spot on the couch, do you mind refilling my glass?

In my time as the accused, I can honestly say, it's always best to let someone know how sorry you feel for them as they enjoy a delicious cocktail. "Do you KNOW what you're missing in your state of wine daze?", they cry. Unless your answer is, the slightest edge off of the shrill death cry of freedom, then no, I don't. I also don't know where I put my glass. Have you seen it?

If you're going to insult the very simple pleasures of others, here's a bit of advice, it's always best to do so with absurd and over the top statistics. Why no, I was not aware that 2 glasses of wine a day made someone who clearly has it all figured out seem like an overbearing, statistic maker-upper. Oh wine, you have clouded my judgment yet again.

In the eyes of the tsk-tskers, I am the Miss Hannigan to their Donna Reed. I hate to burst anyone's bubble, but, even donning my best Miss Hannigan boa and compression knee highs, I can't pull off the bathtub gin. I don't have a bathtub. It makes my accurate depiction nearly impossible. I'm doing the best I can. Those are big shoes to fill.

I imagine that even if I opted to find another outlet that provided release and relaxation, there would be no way to please everyone. And, if you can not please everyone, you should strive to make several people unimaginably and unreasonably offended for no valid reason. In this way, I am a huge success. Mission accomplished.

Cheers.