the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Good Gracious Eyebrowacious

So the weather expert people, including the inimitably booby Jillian “Water Bra” Barberie, told us that actual weather would hit the Southland sometime today.

Note: whenever they call Southern California the “Southland” I want to take a fork to someone’s water bra, it’s that infuriating. There’s not a thing Southlandish about Southern California. Not a single damn thing. No okra, no collards, no humidity, no Elvis. Not even a single goddamn tornado.

Anyway, if not by-goodness-Jesus-ball-smacks, it done come a storm this morning in the Southern Californialand. Rain and clouds and all that fussy mess that normally accompanies weather. It’s the first time it’s weathered since June, which is rather misleading because by June it had only weathered an inch since the beginning of the year, which to many of us was just too much weather altogether.

When it weathers in the Southern Californialand, many of us want to ask for our money back. I’m not sure whom we’d ask, perhaps Jack Nicholson, he just looks like he can control the weather with those eyebrows, and he lives just up the street, and he’s got money to spare.

If not him then maybe I should try to control the weather myself, what with my own monstrous bushel of eyebrowaciousness. I’ve been growing these furry fuckers out for about two months now after a disastrous freak-out with the tweezers prompted by an episode of “Glow” on the Style channel.

Some people, people like me, shouldn’t be allowed to watch the Style channel while under the influence of friends like Jack or Daniel, because people like me, people who don’t even need the influence of Jack or Daniel to get up the nerve to test out cosmetic equipment on our own tender places, will take the advice of one whore-cunt Linda Lopez and, while under the influence of Jack and Daniel, pluck out every last eyebrowacious follicle nature so brutally inflicted on the farmland of our forehead.

Well, the eyebrows are back, and they’re grouchy. And I’m pretty sure the weather is just trembling right now. It should totally stop any second.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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