Monthly Moonshine -- August Edition
I CAN DO IT ALL!
July 1: After an overwhelmingly positive response to the “Fun or Annoying” poll in my first newsletter ('fun' won by a hair), I vowed to write a newsletter on the first of every month. August 1: Fuck. I forgot to write the newsletter …. such is the life of a Fuckabout. When I started painting purses a couple years ago, Hubby asked, “Does this mean you’ll stop writing the blog?” Of course not. Don’t be silly. I can totally do both. Eighteen months later: zero blogposts written. But loads of purses, jackets, and boots painted. Here’s a sampling of a few in case you don’t follow me on Instagram (and why the fuck aren’t you following me on Instagram? @xanaru)
VOTE: WHICH IS YOUR FAVE?
SUGAR SKULL JACKET
SMOKIN' HOT GUNS
SATAN CAT
DAIRY QUEEN
YOU'RE GONNA WANT TO TURN ON THE SOUND FOR THIS LAST CANDIDATE, TRUST ME:
AND NOW, THIS
Here’s some happy, moonshiney stuff I found on the interwebs this month PLUS a few stories of my own.
FOR MY TEXAS PEEPS
Ain't nuthin' cuter 'n a baby dillo
COMIN' IN HOT AND SIDEWAYS
Pickles gots to get those rubs!
TRAIN VS. CAR Some magical digital wizardry that I doNOT understand but can't stop watching.
EMMANUEL TODD LOPEZ
And in the event you’ve been living off grid recently, welcome back to society and allow me introduce you to Emmanuel Todd Lopez, the emu.
I'M NOT ALWAYS ON THE COMPUTER; SOMETIMES I TEXT
Lest you think I spend all my time surfing for amusing videos, I’m posting proof here that I do actually converse with other humans occasionally. Via text of course, not a phone conversation -– I’m not a monster.
Hubby was texting me from the airport as he was headed home for the weekend. He travels a lot. Like, a LOT. Like, 5 out of 7 days a week, every week. Sometimes while he’s away, he misses our dogs. But mostly he wishes his 48 hours at home could be spent by ourselves and not with the stench and hair and slobber of the livestock in our home. This text was written during the latter state of mind …
I just realized some of that doesn't make sense if you don't know the following facts:
We didn't literally buy the dogs their own car. Well, sort of. We bought an old beater car specifically for hauling them around. No way was 311 pounds of dog going to stank up either of our real cars.
PCs is our favorite pet food bakery. They make delicious cookies called Snickerdoggies. Yes, I know firsthand how delicious they are.
Sashabelle (Sash) is our Kid’s bitter, evil, twisted abomination of a cat.
Duncan is 186 pounds of dopey love. Emmie is 125 pounds of neurotic frenzy with intermittent moments of cuddliness that switch back to chaos with surprising speed and ferocity.
Okay, now the text chain makes sense.
AND ONE LAST STORY:
I CHEATED WITH A HOT FRENCH GUY ON A PLANE
I cheated on my dogs, that is. I made a complete fool of myself while doing it too, but it ended with a Frenchie riding in my lap from LAX to Denver so I weathered the humiliation.
It started when I saw this guy politely waiting at the gate...
HOW I FEEL NOW THAT I'VE FINISHED THIS NEWSLETTER
And you should feel pretty good about finishing this longass letter -- give yourself a hand!
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