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The Bang Bang Theories

Spot On

Gooooooood Morning, Reader! Unless you’re reading this at some other time, then Gooooooooood whatever time that is!

Why is ol’ Trixie Bang Bang so gol’dern peppy this early (no judging her definition of “early” Reader, remember our ground rules of she’s the only one who does any judging that needs to be done)?

Well, she’s so dern peppy because she has had TWELVE HOURS of rest. And she….er ME….will not be shamed by that statement!

Because some bodies just need a little more sleep than others and I seem to have been aggrieved blessed with that need.  I’ve also been blessed with not being a morning person, so if it takes twelve hours of sleep for my body to say, “okay, enough, get up, you’re getting bed sores” for me to rise at the early-birdy hour of 8:30 a.m. on a weekend, so be it. I rose to your challenge, Body, and put you right to bed at 8 p.m. last  night.

So now that we’re both up, let’s chat about a few things, in no particular order, and also probably of no particular interest, but we’re here so let’s get on it, Reader.

On Saturday, I spent AT LEAST three hours transferring and organizing all of my phone photos to my laptop so I could scrub my phone of 3000+ pictures and begin anew. As I was transferring upwards of a thousand cat pictures into my folder cleverly named “Cats” I came to the realization that perhaps – just maybe a teensy weensy little bit – I take a few too many pictures of my seven three cats. But sirriously, Reader….is it MY FAULT they are so dag-gum cute??

Is this the cutest picture of the boys, or even the most recent? No. But sorting through a thousand pictures was yesterdays job, not today. It is cute enough.
Seven hundred pictures are of him sleeping. Because adorable.


And, you sort of know what you’re getting here, Reader, as you’re here at Partly CLOWDER.  So you’re going to get Clowder. It’s my job.

In the second news of today, MY TAN is fading. Already. I’m so so so so so so sad to watch it go. Tanning for a freckly-faced fair-skinned gal like myself is always such a delicate dance. I have to get some sun, but not too much all at once, or it’s instant sun poisoning, which I of course DID manage to get on my left leg in a delicate spot that is always the sun’s victim, and also on my big toe of my right foot, which also stepped on a rock on the beach and bruised like a motherfucker just for fun.

Super-frecklie and also I have a blistered/peeled spot on my nose, and also some early peeling happening. Because I am a golden sun goddess. And oh p.s., I was using THREE different sun screens throughout the day.
Sun poisoning on big toe. OUCHY MOTHERFUCKER BRUISES ON THE OTHERS. No pedicure on any. I will never be a foot fetish model. I think i am okay with that.


My legs are nearly their old Winter White once again.   My Frecklie-Face is fading, too, and now it’s just looking like age-spots, and oh, p.s., in the spirit of over-analyzing every square inch of my own head, I have developed a very brown freckle on my chin that I could frankly do without.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this little freckle is going to cost me $200 and some stinging laser pain to try to lighten when I’m fully sick of looking at it, which is coming soon.  I’m focused on the tree, and not the forest. Stupid tree-freckle.

My eyebrows got bleached into almost non-existence by the sun, too.  That looks like a $350 microblading treatment coming soon, too.

It’s expensive to be beautiful, Reader. The saying really needs revised from “beauty is only skin deep” to “beauty is as deep as your wallet.”

But enough of picking my beautiful self apart, amiright, Reader? Because that serves none of us, unless you’re here just to see how awful I look and actually enjoy my pointing out my flaws. Believe me, you don’t have to look too hard to find ’em, but guess what else? I like me just fine regardless. I mean, I will continue to update the outside parts, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like me. Inside that freckly head is a whole buncha wit and nonsense, and I enjoy the hell out of myself.  This right here? Is my way of letting you catch a glimpse. You’re welcome. Or I’m sorry.

Well, that brings us to an over-word count once again, Reader, and I never even touched on what was originally planned.  But I must dash, because yesterday for the first time I ordered my shopping online from The Walmart, and my pick up time is between 11 a.m. and noon, and I have to get my freckly self ready and go pick up my wares.

My Mister found it absurd that I ordered online, he is very old school and still likes to go inside to do his banking for crying out loud, so grocery shopping without going into the store is uncalled for to him.

I, however, am looking forward to curb-side pickup and not succumbing to impulse purchases of miracle freckle removing creams.  However, in the interest of disclosure, I’m not really sure how much time this is going to save me, because while placing my online orders, I ordered a couple of vacation photos for my Wander Wall, and those are coming from a different Walmart, so did I really save any effort, Reader? In the words of the Magic 8 Ball,  all signs point to No.

We could use a little update here.




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