Irony, thy name is Thursday.

Recently Triple S and I agreed that two kids are enough for this fantastic family. I'm not getting any younger and diapers aren't getting any cheaper.

I'm a bit of a space case though and I'm not a huge fan of Russian roulette so the doc and I had a chat and we agreed on a plan. A simple outpatient procedure and then I don't have to worry about any more babies.

It's weird. I love babies! Especially my sweet blonde babies. They were so cute and snuggly and wonderful easy going babies but I don't want to go back to carrying a diaper bag everywhere with me.

So in I went. After a long talk about not needing the pain medication the Doc recommended. (I'm a bit insane.) I laid on the table for an hour, had some coffee and then went to the gym.

In order to confirm that it was a success I needed an ultra sound so this past Thursday I headed over to hospital. I laid on another table and confirmation was received.

I can no longer have children. (wow that sounds so final. I feel like I should insert an evil sound effect here.)

Obviously the only logical thing upon hearing this news would be to head up to the 3rd floor for a visit to Labor and Delivery.

What?

Confused?

Yeah I know. Not exactly a normal person's first stop but a good friend had just given birth to a little girl the night before. Even better was when after ten minutes of holding her sweet new baby my doctor walked in. You can imagine the confused look on his face when he saw me there.

I just laughed and headed out the door. I was late for Cardio Ballistic! (did I mention I was insane?)

My sweet, sweet babies.

America's next top handgun model

Sadly there won't be any Tyra Banks or competitions where I try and make myself look like a zombie or a fairy princess. (What I do in the privacy of my own home is none of your business.)

Part of the wonderfulness of living in the South is the conservative nature of the population. Less government, more guns.  I might be simplifying their ideals a bit but it's okay to use stereotypes right?

Colored bullets? Yes please. Do they come in purple.

So glad you guys are on the same page as me.

So when we moved down here Triple S and I embraced the more laissez fair attitude that the South associates with firearms and joined a range.

Point Blank Range is a top notch facility where we are always greeted with sarcasm and attitude. This isn't, of course how they treat everyone. The staff is awesome. Helpful, knowledgeable and funny. But Triple S and I aren't fans of sincerity. It confuses our bitter hearts and makes us look for deception.

Okay so Triple S is probably fine with sincerity as he had a pretty normal childhood. I'm the crazy one with an entire matching set of baggage.

Just because I keep my crazy in it doesn't mean it shouldn't be pretty.

No judging on the internet. (I'm pretty sure that's a rule.)

Stop babbling!

Sorry. Thank goodness the voice in my head steers me back on point or I would be rambling on about closets, the color orange and my irrational fear of guinea pigs. (only some of this is true.)

Seriously! Focus!

Where was I? Oh yeah. Modelling. Obviously I was born to be photographed. Seriously. Have you seen this chin? It has the cutest little butt right on the middle. I know gap tooth smiles are coming back. So that means the next logical "big thing" in the modelling world will be butt chins. I've heard this from some very reliable sources including Barbizon. Those people know what they are talking about.

Dear god in heaven get back to your point. If you ever had one. 

Today I got a call from the above mentioned range to see if I was available to come down and participate in a photo shoot for what I can only assume will be their nationwide marketing campaign. You aren't going to be wasting this kind of magic on just the local paper, that is just insane.

Obviously I asked them to contact my agent and after some tense negotiations they agreed to my terms. (my contract rider would rival anything J-Lo could come up with.)

So Monday I'll be getting my pretty on. Obviously they need some time to fly my hair and makeup team in.  I'll let you all know how it goes.

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 Serious note:

If anything in the post offends you CHILLAX! obviously I'm using sarcasm with a heavy hand.You must be new. You might want to try reading some of my earlier works to get accustomed to my speech patterns.

V-day

Not as awesome as VE-day or VJ-day but hey hallmark had to come up with something else when people stopped celebrating those at around the 20 year mark.

This despite Tom Hanks best efforts. Seriously the guy loves WWII.

I have to admit that Damien Lewis made me love it a bit too.

A ginger should not look that good in a uniform

But even a generation referred to as "Great" still can't compete with the ridiculousness of women's need for men (insert whatever gender pair you want, I'm an equal opportunity love hater) to prove their love.

Enter Hallmark and Jarod and Kay and a thousand other companies that tell you if your husband/boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other loves you they will spend a lot of money on you. Probably more than they can afford. After all you can't put a price on love right?

I'm sure someone has tried. That is the whole point of being a capitalist society. (I googled economics of happiness. Who knew it was a movie! sadly there is no monetary value associated with it.)

I'm not a fan.

Not in some sort of ultra feminist way. I mean I'm all for women power but I don't need to hate on V day to feel stronger. If flowers make you happy then enjoy them to your hearts content.

Look away if you are waiting for snark because I'm about to be mushy.

Expressions of love are individual. Like fingerprints and snowflakes. (wow that was a bit too mushy)

Triple S has gotten me some presents that would get most men relegated to the couch. Some of the best include a blender, a scale, sneakers and a vacuum.

It was so shiny and perfect

You read that right. A scale and a vacuum! I did ask for the scale and I'm not sure if this it is a statement about me, him, or our relationship but when the vacuum arrived I called thrilled.  "Best present ever!"

So on V Day this year I hope the love of your life gets you the present of your heart's desire.

Even if it is still the stupidest, most ridiculous, mass marketed holiday ever.