Happy very late on a Friday night, my precious petunias! I'm late, it's tired, and I'm off in the morning for a weekend of fun and exploration, but before I go, I thought I'd leave you with this slightly disturbing email that I recently received from my mother. From my mother who is clearly smoking crack.
My dear little lovelies,
It was suggested that our VP hopeful Palin has such a way with names (Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow and Piper) that she have the opportunity to rename all the people of the land! According to the palin name generator, I may now be referred to as: Filter Skate. Dad, when you need to list his name for whatever official record, may be referred to as Sack Panther. Cheasty, you are now dubbed Moose Roadster. Umulu, yours may be the best: Mustache Warthog. The Fairy King has been replaced by Roller Texas. Crasey, you my dear one, are to be known as Lean Pipe. Your little brother Bug - Knife Pile.
Enjoy the debate between Biden and she who is not to be named.
Love, hugs and kisses,
Filter Skate Mommy
Umulu promptly responded that she prefers to be known as "Stache." All I can say is that the very idea of calling my father "Sack Panther" gives me the willies, and if anybody starts calling me "Moose," Filter Skate is gonna die. It is becoming increasingly clear that I come from a deeply disturbed genetic line.
P.S. You know I'm kidding, right? I think my mother is hilarious, and I keep giggling about Knife Pile, Roller Texas, et. al.