I got an email from a long-time high school red-headed sexy lady friend of mine early last week asking if I’d like to get drunk so she can blog about it.
I immediately ran to the store, bought amazing bottles of wine, drank them, passed out, and woke up with a killer headache and my son poking me in the eye saying “wake up daddy! Why are you sleeping on the toilet again?”
After 27 glasses of water I regained my senses and wrote my friend Page back, “YES!!! But where and why?”
See, my friend Page* has this awesome blog called The Mommy Quack. It’s good good stuff, READ IT
*Sidebar: I’m a huge redhead fan. My son’s a redhead and Page is a long-time friend and the poster child of why redheads rock – sexy, funny, brilliant, and just damn good people.
Back to the story.
Recently Page fell in love with the delicious margarita pre-mixed Skinny Girl. Peppering her hilarious writing abilities with a batch of the insanity of mommyhood and a side of alcoholic relief, she launched a new blog HERE.
That’s when I received the email asking if I’d be the first male guinea pig to try the stuff.
My thinking? It’s alcohol…so ummm….yes!!!!
My second thinking? I should definitely involve the wife.
We make immediately make the purchase, bring it home and begin the consummation. I know it’s not the right word damn it!!!
The wife and I sit on the couch and we take a big sip.
Clicking and clapping our pallets like we’re professional connoisseurs we look at each other and say, “this shit ain’t half bad!”
And that’s when the glasses get filled to the top. The TV gets changed to the 90s station and I run upstairs to throw some deodorant on cause it’s starting to look like a little something-something might happen thanks to the magic of Skinny Girl.
One Hour Later: “Skinny Girl” is now being called “Skinnaaa Guuurl” and the wife is icing her hip from falling down the stairs after going to pee.
90 Minutes Later: The wife and I are sitting on the couch talking serious shit about how the “Skinnaaa Guuuurl” on the label needs to stop flaunting her ass in front of all the hard-working moms and find some damn couth.
Two Hours Later: The wife says: “I think two. It would take me two swings to your head with this empty bottle before it breaks.”
Two Hours and One Minute Later: The empty Skinny Girl bottle is carefully hidden from my wife ever finding it again.
Two Hours and Ten Minutes Later: The wife and I are playing spin the bottle and for some damn reason I keep losing.
Two Hours and Thirty Minutes Later: The wife walks into the room with the cell phone cupped in her hands and says, “OK…I have the Skinny Girl local sales rep on the phone. Do we want two cases a week or ten? Oh!!! And I agreed to get a Skinnaaaa Guuuurrrll car decal on both the car hoods!!”
Two Hours and Thirty-Six Minutes Later: I’m in the car on the way to the store to buy more Skinny Girl to sooth the wife from the disappointment of an 18-wheeler showing up at our front door with the Skinny Girl.
Three Hours Later: The wife and I are on our way to the tattoo shop to get “Skinny Gurl for Life” tattooed on our forheads.
Five Hours Later: The wife and I fall asleep in a pile of hot marital unsexiness with blood dripping from our new awesome tattoos.
Eleven Hours Later: Our son walks into our room and kicks me awake saying “daddy? Why do you have “Sk…..skinn……skinny guuuuurl tattooed on your forehead?”
And why does mommy have an earring through her nose?”
Skinny Girl. It’s a parental lifestyle that we’ll forever be hooked on.
Keep up the awesome Page!!