I'm so unmotivated to blog these days--and I'm not totally sure on this, but I think it has a lot to do with the fact that it's the summertime. The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming, and I spend several hours a day chasing a half-naked James up and down our street. The neighbors must love it. I'm like, "Hi Betty! Beautiful day today!........JAMES DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH BETTY'S HYDRANGEA WITH YOUR PENIS!.....Really Betty, your flowers are breathtaking."
See? I'm having too much fun to blog.
Speaking of fun, I've developed a new summertime hobby that is also absorbing a great deal of my time--fattoo watching. Unless you're a close family friend, you probably don't know what a fattoo is--after all, I made it up myself.
A quick Google search will tell you that a fattoo is a face tattoo, but let me tell you, Google is completely packed with shiz. When you're in a state like Maine, where there are precautionary signs at the State Fair urging you to "Eat Responsibly," then fattoo = fat + tattoo (but only if the owner is wearing a teeny-tiny string bikini)
Let's review the math:
FAT + TATTOO = FATTOO
Got it? Genius, I know.
We are lucky enough to live one tenth of a mile from the public beach, and we are doubly lucky because that place is a hotbed for teeny-bikinis and out-of-this-world fattoo artwork. As far as flamboyant body exposure goes, our little beach is really quite similar to muscle beach in California--but also very different. I would have to venture a guess that my beach has a few more cans of Pringles floating around.
So that's my new hobby, and that's where I've been spending the bulk of my time. And now it's official--I'm a horrible, horrible person.