Be careful what you WISH for, you just might get it.
Sort of.
I wished for a million dollars. Uhhm…. Didn’t get that.
Clearly I need to shout a little louder at the Lotto-Max seller.
Or at least buy a lottery ticket.
What did I ask for?
** To get published in a magazine **
This was my plea blog post: I have a dream.
Then it happened. It took a while for my dream to come true. Good thing I didn’t hold my breath. I would have been dead. Dead as a door knob.
But it happened…..
WE WERE PUBLISHED.
I HAD A DREAM, it came true….and now…I’m all… yo gal…I’m up in my own face…like…
“ hell ya...I like this…I WANT MORE wishes to come true!!!! “
GIVE ME AN INCH, I WILL TAKE A MILE
” Gimme a GENIE IN A BOTTLE, for crying out loud ”
Not sure what I would do with a Genie. I might ask for three wishes, I might punch her in the face. I might use her oil lamp for decorative purposes.
Now this whole…make a wish then make it happen…thaaang didn’t happen without pain the ass stuff entering the picture. As we prepped for the photo shoot, a little bastard SQUIRREL thought he would stroll in and wreak havoc with a squirrel treehouse fiasco
However, in the big picture, I now have an altered outlook on WISHES.
Now I wish that I had wished for a more intricate list of wishes. A wish list like :
1. George Clooney. Why didn’t I wish for him ?
2. Long flowing locks of hair that never need to be brushed. Only stroked. By George Clooney.
3. Winning 5 million dollars. In small bills. Then I can roll around in the monstrous pile of
small billsmoola like a money trollop.
So why have I been hiding this magazine publishing news for so long this summer?
I kept it under my hat.
Super secret.
007 secret.
I was busy throwing white paint on everything
BTW’ssss, you should know this is the summer issue of OUR HOMES MAGAZINE.
That’s right. SUMMER.
Summer is over in about 5 minutes.
Where the heck did summer go?
Give it back.
I finally had proof that the kids bedrooms can be clean. ONCE.
Why did it take so long?!!?? OMG, it is not my fault. Summer is like a fast speed train. It whips by and takes no prisoners. I wanted to write about 6 trillion blog posts this summer. Including this one. But…instead….I….I….I….don’t know what to tell you… I was busy… I have no idea what I did. But I did it. I know it.
The only thing missing in the treehouse is Tarzan. Minus his loin cloth.
GUESS WHAT BLOG POSTS YOU MISSED OUT ON THIS SUMMER?! Because if I wasn’t so busy doing NOTHING, I would have written about this :
* How to make your house look clean by WHIPPING everything in your closets REALLY fast. So fast, if you BLINK, you miss it.
* How to find all the socks that your clothes dryer ATE. Clothes dryers are bastards. Just sayin’.
* How to get your house cleaned and actually have someone show up, when it is CLEAN. P.S. Don’t count on it. The secret to not having guests, is to CLEAN YOUR HOUSE.
*How to get your hair to NOT look like a flock of birds nested on your head after driving in a convertible car. Unattainable task in my book. I could never write a post about that. My hair looks like a rats nest.
*How to not throw the air conditioner out the window. My bad. Been there. Done that. Got the embarrassing poster.
Here it is the big unveil :
OUR HOME made it into OUR HOMES magazine.
Funny play on words, isn’t it? I just got it. Uhmm, duh.
Blurry photo. That is what happens when you drink Margarita’s.
GUESS how famous I am now?!! My aesthetician, Sheena asked me to AUTOGRAPH the magazine. That’s right. FAMOUS. Nail spa famous.
After visiting the nail spa, I needed more magazines. Because surely the whole world would want one. I know my Mom did. And all three of my friends. So, I started stealing acquiring bundles of magazines from stores within a six thousand mile radius. If I needed to hop a plane to get a magazine, well…I was going to do it. *Snicker* Someone needed to take one for the team.
More white paint. White paint everywhere.
Dear Williamsford Pie Company, I had no idea where the massive bundle of OUR HOMES MAGAZINES went. Never saw them. What-the what what? Where’d they go?
It is your fault. You should NEVER-EVER-NEVER have a pie company in the same retail space as the post office !!
Every.Single.Time: I enter the post office with a letter to mail and …I come out with a sugar high and butter tart mush all over my face. Carrying a pie for later. Because two sugar highs in one day is NECESSARY.
The only alternative around this neck of the woods country is to make apple pie. But I can’t.
Not this year. There are NO apples on our trees this year.
No drunk ground hogs, either.
P.s. If you ever want to witness a drunk ground hog…… Watch him eat all of the fermented apples under an apple tree. It is better entertainment than HBO. He stuffs himself silly. He gets so full, he can barely walk. He looks like a goof ball, stumbles around, makes drunk faces, burbs, has a few belly laughs, rolls over…and then falls down and has a nap. With a fat snore.
Just like ME.
So here is what I’m thinking.
When do I get to be soooooo famous, that I will want to kiss myself in the mirror?
Will fame ever happen?
Maybe if I stop wishing for George and start focusing on my publishing dreams, my dream of fame might increase exponentially.
The last time I kissed a mirror, I was waaaaaay younger and practicing how to kiss the incredibly-handsome neighbor.
I think I was 6 years old.
Or 36.
Something like that.
So here it is….without further aideu…. my brush with fame :
I have attached the electronic PDF of the OUR HOMES MAGAZINE issue that we are featured in. No need for you to go and steal all the local mags. P.s. I think they still have some at the Hardware stores. Talk fast, make faces, wave your hands, distract the store employees, and then RUN like you have never RUN before with a bundle under your arms. Not that I have ever done that.
Page 22 in the magazine/ PDF is where it all begins.
Our home feature in OUR HOMES MAGAZINE
Gotta run. I’m off to practice kissing a mirror.
George Clooney likes a good kisser.
A famously good kisser.
