1. Because then my college degree might be used for something and 2. Perhaps I wouldn't feel so guilty about sending my husband to work every day to get his balls busted. (That's a joke. His balls are fine.)
Here's my next book idea, Fifty Shades of Erica, the True Disaster.
I'll have chapters like this-
Take it off the bed
Those spicy days when you need a mattress in your living room...
for little girls to watch Pocoyo, of course.
Blondes really do have more fun.
Especially when you powder your already blond hair with flour and spray flour over a 50 square mile radius. I'm sure my neighbors noticed the dust. I should probably apologize.
There's glitter in my bed.
And 3 kungzhu pets, a gaggle of sticky lizards, a Lightning McQueen lunch box and a littering of Play-doh.
Caring for the unmentionables.
When you realize your hippie-chick, nudist of a 3 yr old has been using the hand towel to 'wipe' INSTEAD of toilet paper. I think we've addressed it, but just in case, if you come to visit and the hand towel in the hall bath is on the floor, think twice before grabbing it.
And one of my favorites-
The Home of the Big Cock
For that special Mother's Day when I ended up at Sportin' Woody's, Home of the Big Cock where you can come in for a stiff one (their honest and true tagline) with my husband's friend, a biker and an intoxicated construction worker.
