Things I Will Force Myself To Like in 2005

A) My ever-expanding yet still perky and firm ass. If it droops even one inch, though, I vow to hack it off with my husband’s buzz saw.



B) Rubber gloves.



C) The word “maw.”



D) That one pesky hair that insists on reappearing under my chin despite repeated pluckings. I think I’ll name it Mary Jo.



E) My innate, totally uncontrived ditzyness. Honestly, some days I swear my I.Q. dips below 40. I am a true blonde, yo.



F) My neighbor across the street. Gonna be tough, liking that one, but I’ll make a sincere effort to push back the urge to kick him in his fucking neck.



G) My cat’s queer propensity to lie on my chest while I read or watch T.V., her face 1/4 inch from mine. I don’t get it, and it weirds me out, but, hey, I’ll try.



H) My oldest daughter’s blossoming gorgeousness. Where’s my baby, man?



I) Her boyfriend. Handsome and polite as he is, he’s way too manly-looking for my taste. And tall. And he has a penis. But I’ll swallow my gorge and make an attempt.



J) My husband. HAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAA! The bastard.



K) George W. Bush



L) And if you believe that one, you don’t know me very well, and that's just a crying shame. Visit me more often, lover.



M) Paris Hilton. Why? I don’t know. Just because.



Hmmmm. I can’t think of anything else I should force myself to like right now. I like most everything, really. Well, except headcheese. That will never, ever happen, not if I live to be two hundred and fifty-six. Nope.