Santiago is My Son

I remember when I first started you blog, I came up with the idea that I'd cater to all those mommy bloggers out there in an attempt to grow a base of readers that was worthwhile. Since I have no husband, no children, and no desire to mutate my body via pregnancy, my only means of catering to the mommies is by writing about my boyfriend's pug Santiago as if he were my adorable and precious son. I've since given up on obtaining any sort of a reader base with this pathetic nonsense, but I still find the idea of writing about my boyfriend's pug as my child amusing.

So anyway, I caught Santiago doing the cutest thing today! I accidentally left him in the bedroom alone because I'd like to think he and I have built up some trust since I became his "new mommy". I walked into the room after my shower expecting to find him curled up on the bed for naptime, but instead he was nowhere to be found. I had a mini heart attack thinking he had somehow rolled off the bed and had been knocked unconscious. However upon further inspection I found him laying in my pile of dirty laundry chewing on a pair of dirty underwear. It was the cutest thing! He looked up with that face that had "I didn't do it" written all over it. How adorable! Then I threw my clothes at him and yelled "Bad dog!" because he's a dog and in all reality I think it's nasty that he chews on my dirty undergarments. Gross.

Ok, so I can only pretend Santiago is my son to a certain extent. But it's a start, right? Maybe for my next "Santiago as my Son" entry, I can craft a collection of photos of him with comments written about how he is the most precious little miracle God could have given me and note how he has his father's stature.

On a side note that has nothing to do with anything, my newly grown fingernails are driving me CRAZY!!! Must cut/chew soon. At least I won't be chewing dirty underwear like someone in this household.

There Goes the Polish on my Thumb...

Nail polish is stupid, blog. For someone who bites her nails, I always thought that nail polish would be the savior of my digital hygeine, but oh it has made it much worse. My modeling gig for tonight (sounding way cooler than it really is) is requiring me to wear a simple nude gloss on my nails and I can't stop picking at it. Please God get this shit off my hands before I go crazy. I'm going to have to repaint before the day is done. Oh hell. That's an entirely other awful process that boys don't have to do and girls must, for some reason, endure. I don't know who thought paint on fingernails was cool, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was a stupid man.

...Stupid inventor of other girly ghasts like bras and ballet. Humbug...

My Frustration Mounted Quickly

I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU BLOGGER! I know not how this works and how I get friggin people to read this shit! Yeah yeah yeah. Write more. That's obvious. But guess what. I could be writing my heart out, but that still doesn't answer the question of HOW THE FUCK DO I GET SOMEONE TO READ THIS THING?!?! I'm over it. For now.