Boobs

We will be spending the next four days in the mountains with my side of the family, a raucous group of people that includes my sister and her five kids, my brother and his three kids, my mother and step-father and my step-father’s bologna. My mother thought it would be fun for all of us to spend 96 hours in a small cabin with no air conditioning at an altitude so uncomfortable that it will squeeze out the oil from my teenage niece’s pimples.

I am surprisingly very excited about this trip if only because I will be getting a much needed break from the minute-to-minute upkeep of the wee one. I will also be spending some quality time with my brother whom I haven’t seen in over a year. Over the weekend he asked me if I would let him write a guest post on this website, and he kept dropping lines from past posts to let me know just how much he reads this site.

OOPS.

He asked me about the cabbage in my bra and wondered if I would let him sniff my boobs. I told him that although we may be Southern, that type of behavior is frowned upon in the real world where civilized people reside, people with teeth and clean fingernails, people who don’t plant plastic flowers in their front yard. When I realized just how much he has read of this site I immediately assured him, “Brigham Young doesn’t really suck cock. I was just kidding.”

So next week you may get the wildly pleasurable opportunity to read a guest post from Ranger Hamilton, my Mormon brother who was named after a box of cigars.

See you next week.

P.S. Mad props go to our neighbor Thomas Barth who just helped Jon and some nephews move a 400 ton piano into our living room. And he did it without any shoes on! Or socks! Thomas obviously grew up a sockless baby, and look how he turned out: O-FUCKING-KAY. ATTENTION, HUSBAND OF MINE: IT’S OKAY IF I LET LETA GO SOCKLESS. She’ll grow up and help people move pianos.