When the Reigning Queen Supreme and the Wanna-Be King were searching for a new kingdom, one of the many features they were looking for was room to entertain. The tiny kingdom that they were leaving burst at the seams when it was just them and their little princesses and princes running amok which left having any sort of Royal Gala Event completely out of the question.

They found the perfect kingdom and when they moved in, they excitedly began to host parties.

The Queen and her King, without hesitation, would invite all their friends. And if their friends had some friends they wanted to bring, there was always room for them too. They enjoyed meeting new people.

The more the merrier was a motto that the Queen and her King lived by (obviously, I mean, look at how many kids and pets the Royals have!)

As far as they were concerned, holidays and birthdays were just an excuse to host a get-together. Just another reason to hang out with their friends whom they adored.

Slowly our Royal Couple began to notice that, if they were not the hosts of the affair, they were not invited anywhere when their friends were hosting their own events.

This perplexed and troubled the two because they were clueless as to the reason they were left out of their friends festivities.

They began to wonder if the friends that they held dear reciprocated that sentiment.

They decided that this year, they would not have their annual New Years Party. Besides, times were tough in the kingdom. And those extravaganzas can get costly.

News started trickling in from all corners of the neighboring kingdoms that gatherings were being planned to bring in 2010. Friends getting together with friends to celebrate the start of a new decade.

The Kings’ phone never rang with invitations nor did the Queens’ phone sing it’s Royal ringtone of “Hungry Like The Wolf”.

The Royals were, simply and sadly, left off of every single guest list.

The King, upon realization that they would be toasting in the New Year alone, looked at the Queen. The Queen, upon realization that they would be toasting in the New Year alone…looked at the King. They exclaimed, in unison, What. The. Fuck?

They wondered what it is that they did or they do that precludes them from being invited to celebrations at other Kingdoms.

Don’t get me wrong, the Royals enjoy each others company very much. But they hang out together an awful lot. And sometimes, like on the weekends or holidays, they enjoy the company of their friends.

So this year, the Royals will bring in the New Year quietly, as a family. It will be fine, they will have fun bowling and whatever else they decide to do. Together.

But they will question why it is that, if they aren’t the ones inviting the friends that they hold so near and dear, no one is inviting them.

Together and with feelings that are hurt, the King and Queen sigh.

Guess what you’re going to get today, kids? A bowl of mish-mash soup of a post. Because THAT. Is what is going on in my wind tunnel of a brain.

Avitable wrote a post called “Twitter: Who Should You Follow?’ Go read it. I’ll just drink my coffee and pick the crusty boogers out of my son’s nose and hum until you get back. *insert quiet whistling of “Smooth Criminal” while tapping to the beat on the table”.

I’m going to assume you’ve read it.

Now. This is my little opinion. Because you care about my opinion.

Who cares? Really? At the end of the day, who follows you on Twitter and vice versa? Does it do your kids homework? Does it help pay bills? Does it REALLY AFFECT the bottom line of your life? It’s just Twitter, for the love of all things hashtaggy and retweety.

I love my Twitter friends. Especially the ones that actually talk to me. The other ones that I follow who NEVER engage…I wish them well but, I just don’t really give that much thought to. That is why I haven’t cleaned house yet, done any unfollowing. Because. In the scheme of my life, who I follow or unfollow. Who follows me or unfollows. It doesn’t flipping matter. At all. So if I get a huge unfollow exodus today because of this little random blurb…so be it. I’m still going to have the people that really matter in my real life and in my social media real life. To the others, take care.

Anyway. Now where was I? Rant. Random.
Oh yeah!

Last night!! I went to a ELF make up party. It was hosted by my REAL LIFE friend that I just happened to have met on Twitter…Courtney. Love her. So, she hosted this lovely party. And she was allowed to have 10 people, including herself. ELF is gracious and they send, as swag, a lovely bag of make-up brushes along with a holder cup. It’s awesome. But. Everyone she and Michelle, @skinjunkie invited. Who, by the way, happens to be another REAL LIFE friend now. They, the other women invited, of course said they’d be there. After all, what woman in their right mind would say no to free make up?
Guess what?
Only 5 people showed up. Including our lovely hostess, Courtney.
Rude, people. If you say you’re going to be somewhere. And the hostess is counting on you to be there. The, unless you are dying. Or on bed-rest because you have gestational diabetes at 6 weeks into your pregnancy…which one of the ladies is excused because that is a true story. Then you show up. Otherwise, you’re just assholes who don’t deserve to be invited anywhere. EVER.
And you missed out. It was FUN. Yummy margaritas. Yummy meatballs. Yummy desserts. And scrumptious, delicious, mouth-watering…MAKE UP. And because 5 of these chicks didn’t show up, I have a TON of new make up.
So thank you, you rude women. Your loss was our gain.
And thank YOU Courtney! For inviting me. I had a wonderful time. And even better…I loved seeing you and Michelle. And I enjoyed meeting the 2 other women that were there.

Oh yeah. Thank you to all my friends. That follow me on Twitter. And who actually, we’d probably be friends in real life. Thank you for sending me over to Open Office because I can do my work for my Dad now. AND. I can finally write the rest of my sexy, raunchy, snarky, vampire story.
Yay.

Oh and P.S…thank you to my friend Mary at Pajamas and Coffee. She featured my blog today in her new Saturday meet a new blog meme!! So, hello to all her peeps. Welcome. Enjoy. Have some coffee and Halloween candy.

Also and futhermore. Because if I put another P.S, it’ll look like I’m copying The Bloggess even though I’m way older than her and used to do multiple p.s’s on my letters, back when we wrote letters…
*gasping for breath from the run on sentence*
last thought.
If people were to spend as much time doing important things like…putting band aids on the ozone, bombing all the bad countries that want to hurt us, etc…
and stop updating fricking twitter with new stupid beta programs that screw me up…
this world would probably not be coming to an end in 2012.
Just saying.

It started out innocently enough.
A few girlfriends meeting for dinner and drinks on a Friday night.
We met up at a place in Northville called Bravo. I had never been to this particular little area. It was a mecca of yummy restaurants. An Irish pub, a very fancy steak house, the Italian restaurant we were at and so much more. So cute! I can’t wait to go back and check it out more.
Anyway…
It was your typical, run of the mill Girls Night Out.
A few friends, sitting around a table. Some drinking, all eating, everyone laughing.
HYSTERICALLY.

I’m not sure anyone knows how it happened.
How the conversation went from silly and took turn at the corner of vile and disgusting.
But it did.
And holy CRAP, you should have all been there.

*Insert warning here* If you get squeamish from any type of bathroom talk, then I promise I won’t be insulted if you don’t read the rest of this post. Go read archives. Or maybe you should just come back tomorrow. Mwah. See you on Twitter? XOXO

*whispers* are they gone?

One of us started it, for sure. Not sure which one. I’ll blame her *points in random direction*

Suddenly, we were talking about “the time that the URGE attacked”.

The time that the URGE made a sneak attack at an unsuspecting Mom. It was during a walk with her new baby. The URGE. It was too strong for this new Mommy. Sweating from the exertion of walking and fighting the good fight. She couldn’t hold the muscles together any longer. Her will and resolve, beaten down. And slowly…she accepted it, and let The URGE overtake her. And as she finished her walk up her driveway, she was spent. The only thing she could do was hand off her infant to her husband and run upstairs to dump her dump into the toilet from her pants.

Suddenly, another piped in. She had a similar incident.

That URGE. It attacked her at Target. She was too busy shopping to pay too much attention to the warning signs. After all, it was only two miles to get home. She thought she was stronger than…The URGE. She got into her car. Headed in the direction of home. It was only two miles, she thought…sweating and panting to herself. Then, she got stuck behind an old biddy who seemed to have forgotten which was the gas and which was the brake. The URGE. It got too strong. And while she was driving the 2 miles an hour, heading the 2 miles towards home…she lost her fight. The URGE won.
And she pooped in her car. Alone and humiliated. And dry heaving and gagging from the stench.

The URGE.
It pounced on her. During a power walk. It became a power battle between good and evil. Bladder vs. Mind. But The URGE. It’s a strong, strong entity. One which, even those that have the Force on their side can’t always control. And she left a trail of pee going up her driveway as she power fought and lost to…The URGE.

It kept on coming.
The URGE stories.
The laughter.
The potty talk about dingleberries and toilet paper schmutz left on the toilet by our husbands.

It was so wrong, our entire conversation.
But no. Not really.
Because one thing we noticed. A common theme, if you will.
It happened to ALL of us. All 5 of us. At one time or another.
We had to face The URGE.
We may have been alone during our battles with The URGE.
But, we ALL had our war stories.
And as vile and disgusting and HILARIOUS our retellings were…
It was such a relief to know that it was normal…ish.
In the end, knowing that we weren’t alone in our embarrassing memories,
Made it that much easier to laugh about it.
And laugh…hell yeah we did.