Waking up without one's pyjamas on is usually a good thing, except I was alone, and I had gone out to dinner wearing my pyjamas, and went to bed wearing the clothes I had on, which happened to be pyjamas. Are ya with me so far? How I lost them in the course of the night is a mystery, but maybe I've got some explaining to do. Cousin Sarah and I. Wait. How come sentences that start with "Cousin Sarah and I" usually wind up with one of us being arrested, or worse, projectile vomiting all over the phone after drinking and dialing the jerk that dumped me for the puffy débutante with the trust fund.
Last night was set aside to plow through the November Stinks entries. I arrived at Sarah's house in my pyjamas because I was tired and my pants are too tight and I was hoping to scarf back some chow and get the hell out of there so I could be in bed by 8.
But oh no. Fate found me pyjama clad at a surprise victory party in my honour – which was really nice, but I am a go big or go home kind of girl which meant waking up naked covered with lemon icing and thirsty as all get out. Realizing it was Monday and I had a child, I woke the little bastard up, but he just moaned something about being too post-hockey tournament tired to go to school, so I thought, screw it, chugged a Diet Coke, and went back to bed.
Jammie day.
So, while better late then never, Cousin Sarah and I have just now sifted through the many entries in the November Stinks contest, and let me say some of you have filthy mouths and sick minds and are just awesome. Choosing just two winners was really tough because it seems asthma and breathing problems are rampant here in Havenot, maybe since you're all descended from the same inbred coal miner from New Fucking Waterford, Cape Breton.
I must say, the funniest November Stinks email came from a man of all things, and to quote a line from his entry: "I've got full-on swine flu, and have been sweating like Father Lahie on a school bus." So, nice try Trent Laing. You get an honourable mention, but no cigar.
The winner of the night at White Point goes to Kim McNeil because she made me and Cousin Sarah cry, so damn you Kim for having a dead husband who died in the month of November – a husband you actually loved – which truly sucks. If you didn't love him and he died, you wouldn't be heading down to wipe your ass on White Point towels.
The winner of the Surgically Clean Air air purifier goes to Marcie Young, because Marcie has twin girls which is freakishly bad enough (think puberty) but to make things worse, the twins were preemies, both have asthma, and her husband works out of town a lot, yadda yadda. Through it all, Marcie still seems to have a sense of humour, so she gets a heavy duty air purifier to make life stink a little less for her, and her girls.
And I am a winner too, thanks to the nice folks who voted, and to Marketing Magazine and their key sponsor American Express, but I feel like a loser today because I woke up naked and alone and covered with icing and fuck, I love icing. How did I miss my mouth with a fork full of icing?
I must be slipping, because Lord knows my mouth is seldom shut.
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