The Road To Hell...
In an effort to restore harmony and goodwill to my nature, I am taking a mini-vacation next week.
I am traveling down to the mountains, staying at a posh resort and I plan on flirting madly with the obscenely young bellboys.
No kids, no husband, no dog. Just me. And my mother. Somebody, shoot me now. It will save me a lot of money, and I'm sure it won't be nearly as painful as being trapped in small quarters with the lady who gave me life.
The upside is the free booze, plush accommodations and the gourmet food I will be ingesting. (Good thing I didn't buy any skinny jeans. I am sure to pack on a few extra pounds...)
The downside is, well, my mother. But I'm trying to look at the upside to this mini-vacation.
How did I get sucked into this expensive, ill-advised mini-vacation from hell, you ask?
I was duped. I was supposed to be going with my sister, who backed out at the last second and my darling mom decided to take her place. I was trapped like a rat.
So now I am looking for a sitter for Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog. Ever.
Because the people I am trusting with my children are notorious dog killers.
And I don't trust them with my hairy, farthing baby.
Ironic, isn't it? They're good enough for my flesh, but not good enough for my pup.
And after four days of hell, you can bet your ass this momma is gonna need a lot of doggy kisses to recover from her personal perdition.