Self-Depreciating? Me? No Way!

Husband says my writing is too self-depreciating. After trying to explain I was using irony to make a good story, he still did not get it. He doesn’t get the whole blog thing and is sure I am writing every day about his penis size (not that he reads the blog, but in case this is the one time he does, IT IS HUGE).

Here is me tooting my horn:

I’m a nutritional guru, juicing organic spinach, bok choy, collard greens, beets, mustard greens, apples, and oranges every morning (I feel I should be mooing instead of moaning during sex).
I buy only organic food visiting the farmers market twice a week (I also have secret runs to Taco Bell).

I try to bone up on nutrition. Here is irony. My latest trip to see a Doctor “talk” about nutrition and what you should be eating to live forever was hosted at the local IHOP. I had three orders of organic bacon.

I am a Food and film critic for three newspapers- but I am running out of adjectives for “spicy salsa.”

I was in the Circus for 6 years performing as a trapeze artist, an elephant rider, magician assistant and general pain-in-the-ass for all my South American brothers-in-law.

I have owned over 15 businesses, my first bar came with a dead body that had been parked in a van in the parking lot for 3 months (it’s cold in Reno).

I am now running three and trying to open another business(all the while trying not to kill my husband as our pillow talk almost always involves him bitching about an employee).

I raised my own kids and several fosters to become reasonable adults.

I drink an expensive bottle of wine every night trying to help my palette along. (Okay that was said just to piss him off).

BUT- my house is being remodeled and I feel completely discombobulated. My shoe rack was left out back and all leather items were ruined. Pink clogs now go with everything. Plus every item I own that resides on my bottom floor is in now my driveway. No end in sight. Screaming at the painters made them paint slower.

My house Cleaners haven’t been here in a month, they usually come once a week. This is the one luxury I have always found a way to afford. I feel like I’m swimming in my own filth.

I am out of sorts and a little down. Who wouldn’t be? Well the circus folks, but they live with elephant shit and roaring lions.

This is my son at 6 months with five baby tigers. Aren't I a great Mom!