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If My Party Wore Diapers, You’d Be Here.

I never get hateful or vindictive on this site about anyone I know personally. First of all, I just am not a hateful person (unless you are under 4 feet tall chasing me through a store asking, “Do he bite?”) and find negative energy to be useless, futile and, more importantly, contagious. You reap what you sow, you get what you give, what comes around goes around, blah, blah, blah.

Mainly, though, I generally just dig everyone. In fact, I find something to love about most everyone so easily, that Christian has queried, “What makes someone special?” We, of course, were talking in the romantic sense and my answer I will save for another day called “Never”.

Instead, let me go against the grain. Why not? I’m really annoyed that I’m now too chicken to go up on my rooftop ever again (even for an innocuous dinner) and that my Super knows too much about the placement of my various freckles, so let me spew my anger on you.

As you know, I threw a party. (No, I won’t talk about it ad nauseum anymore, so ” Silent Friend” of the comment box; just relax your anal glands lest you pop when I poke you with my index finger.) Well, it took six months of planning and hard work and we were all very excited about it. I, naturally, wanted my mother there to share in the fun, especially since Meredith and Greg had their families there and Scott, at the time, was expecting his to be in attendance. She said she couldn’t afford it and didn’t have the time. Okay, understood. Hopefully there will be another, more exciting event that she can make.

Well, what is it? Ten days later? Guess who just left for a two week trip from Texas to Florida then Niagara Falls with a possible stop in NYC to see me? Um, yeah, my mom. The same woman who hasn’t even asked me how the party went even after I emailed her and left several voice mails.

She did call, however, to find out the price of diesel fuel. Wha? About ten minutes of listening to how she was going to be traveling all over the country over two weeks in a travel trailer and also has another trip planned to Washington (the really far away state, not the city), she finally asks if anything is going on with me. Hmm, I just threw a party for the Governor of Texas, but, no, not much is happening really. Same old, same old. Thanks for asking. If my party wore diapers and sh*t itself she would’ve tripped over her ovaries to get here and clean baby bottom, because, as you know, mopping up infant feces is validating.

So now you see why I’m bursting with excitement to tell all you anonymous folks about my mini-successes ? Because no one genetically connected to me even gives a rat’s ass. They’re all old-school deaf people (i.e., don’t read hearing people stuff), in jail, on medication or otherwise too poor and “busy” in the suburbs watching television, mowing lawns in criss-cross patterns and tending to the cows. So you, Silent Friend, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I can’t seem to please you, either.

So . . .

this is Kambri Crews, signing off. The pleasure, it seems, has been all mine.

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