A Surprisingly Sane Blog

This is Kathryn, my beautiful sister:

My partner in crime. And sex shop adventures. And strip clubs.

I stole the picture off of her myspace page.  I’m sure if she minds, I’ll hear about it later.

You might be wondering why on earth I posted her picture.  It’s because if you see how sweet and pretty-looking she is, it makes what I’m about to tell you sound way funnier.

One thing we both have in common is that if it’s taboo, chances are, it’s going to blurt out of our mouths in record speed.

On to the story.

So a few weeks ago, we were at Old Navy sifting through the clearance bin of underwear.  I was throwing around panties, helping Kathryn find a few good pairs.

My mom, acting all sweet and innocent, looked at a pair of butt floss that Kathryn was holding and was like, “Ew, I don’t know how you guys can stand having your underwear stuck up your butt.”

And my sister looks at her and says simply, “I like trashy panties.  The trashier, the better.”

We were busting up laughing, and I was like, “Yeah, I’m going to have to agree.  The slutty ones are way more fun to wear.”

Now you know what kind of panties adorn sister’s ass.  And my own.

This was the same shopping trip (and the same store) where my sister alluded to the fact that I’ve been on Prozac.  I haven’t told anyone else in my family besides her.  Long story as to why.  We’re just not going to go there right now.

So anyway, this really crappy cheesy song started blasting over the speakers, and we all groaned.  My mom started complaining about how bad it was, and so rather than cry about it, I decided to make a joke out of it.

I started dancing.  Like, a really stupid dance with a retarded smile on my face.  “Are you kidding?  This song is really moving me!”

Oh gosh, the store must have thought I’d lost it.  But it’s me, so I didn’t care.

Kathryn and my mom were downright near hysterics, bent over gasping for breath they were laughing so hard.  And then Kathryn said the wrong thing in between near-sobs:

“For the love of God, Tamra, please stop!”

Yeah, that really set me off on the spastic track.  Before they knew it, I was standing in the middle of Old Navy twirling a shirt over my head and shaking my ass to the crap song playing.  With a shit-eating grin on my face, of course.

We called it my “Happy Pill Dance”.

My mom asked if I was on something.  I said, “Yes!  Happy Crack!  You want some?”

She laughed…

And since then, not only does my mom know that we prefer trashy panties, but I think she may be starting to wonder if her daughter just might be a little on the nutty side.

And um, so… I think it’s safe to say that anti-depressants really do work.

Current Mood: Cool

Okay, so, um, when your two-almost-three-year-old asks you to get her some more Kix, do it.

Otherwise, your little stinker will get them herself while you’re busy vegging out in front of your laptop.

And trust me, she’ll make a much bigger mess than you would have.

Current Mood: Surprised