Don't go trying to change me. Whoever you are, it's not safe. Others before you have corralled me in the kitchen, finessed me into getting dirty in the garden, and coerced me into coordinating the carpet with the drapes. But in the end, they walked away exasperated and confounded, shaking their heads impotently. Let that be a lesson: No unholy dalliances with domesticity for this princess.
I admit, when pressed, I am an ass, digging my hooves into the ground and tugging in the opposite direction. There's just no reasoning with me when my inner ass rears her, um, head. So whoever you are, I see through you. You're cranking up the heat on me, all the way to eleven, but let me tell you, your efforts to domesticate me are daring and despicable—diabolical even—but dumb.
You see, I am a goddess, but not of the crafty persuasion. Just because you've signed me up for Martha Stewart Living, and just because I've now received two of her propaganda rags in my mailbox, don't think I'm going to be all, “Oh, I can’t wait to grow my own rutabagas.” I don’t even know what those are. You’ll never catch me perfecting a soufflé, a mousse, or a ganache. I mean, that just sounds like something you can transmit. Sorry about that nasty case of ganache, dude. And papier-mâché? Even I know that’s French for chewed-up paper. My sudden concern for hygiene prevents me from touching that.
Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha. How could you let a mystery crusader use you like that? Or perhaps, with your checkered past, you are in on it. OR, could this crusader be someone even more dastardly? Like . . .
Mom? MOM?
[Cue Psycho music.]
Holy herb garden, Batman! Who else could supply my home address for a shipping label? And frankly, who else has so much to gain by my domestic conversion? She loves it when I get all up into her crafty homemaker shit. Oh, Mother, how could you?
Know this, Mama Salla. Those dastardly pink roses on the cover of March and those impressively painted, but sinister, April Easter eggs will not break my resolve to be woefully inadequate!
____________________
P.S. Seriously. Who signed me up for this? Mr. Ex-Boyfriend?
Fire nipples
2 days ago
