i always used to ask mp and ike turner to tell me the story of how i was born, how we became a family. the story made me happy because i realized that no matter what, mp would be there for me. even when it's 40 degrees outside and i drank too much water before bed. i won't tell that story here, because it's a private one. but, at night, i ask mp to tell it to me often.
there are lots of stories still being written. i think that's what's weirdest about the last year. the stories are all different; my life is a choose your own adventure these days. i love it.
i can tell lots of stories that i wouldn't have a year ago. i can tell about pimptress' most wonderful pussy and her yapping chica; the red ball; hetero, needy boys; the trifecta of bar games ass-kicking mp received; fat tire beer; picking up baristas; dropping off housewives; the finn; hockey games with the uninitiated; sammy; trails, stairs, and the cowering paths; singing in the car; walking the canals by christmas light; shaking my tail on 2nd st, picking up the ladies (and their leftovers); gourmet biscuit runs to petco that started with bang and ended with a swede; tossing out the old; shopping for the new; popo action on the first date... followed by popo sister action on the second; the latina drew barrymore (hot and crazy, just like mp likes it); new year's eve (don't drink and text, people); moseying; the list is endless.
currently, the g-ma is trying to talk mp out of jumping from a perfectly good airplane. but, i say go for it; mp is one pf the few people i know can fly. if we can find a puppy-harness and doggy-goggles, i'm in. and we'll have new stories about how mp and i stayed a family.
