Moose is with me at this little cafe and since they don't allow dogs in here, I've managed to disguise him in oversized Coco Chanel sunglasses and cute little Guess man capris. He also has on a pair of tiny leather flip flops but they keep flying off as he sits in his booster seat swinging his legs back and forth; he's listening to his tiny iPod and bopping along to the Pussycat Dolls. He's very metrosexual. I have to remind him that we are in public and when he starts to sing the lyrics too loud, the older lady reading her new book, "The Beauty of Plastic Surgery", looks over and shakes her head. I'm sorry, ma'am, we didn't mean to interrupt your journey to the ultimate Johnson County look. My son is just happy in his little world and could care less about botox, boob jobs, and the fact that your lips are about to overtake your entire head. I'll admit I want a boob job myself, but mine will never be as big as your double Fs and I'll still be able to run. Why I would ever want to leave the collagen center of the universe is beyond me, but I'm sure I'll find my niche in Fresno. Never fear, though, because since the West Coast tends to be about 5 years ahead of the Midwest, I'll send carrier pigeons with messages about how we can all catch up with the latest and greatest trend.
Anyway, as Moose and I sit here and silently have our own little moment of a high school dance where we aimlessly gyrate to Nicole Scherzinger and the rest of the Dolls, he looks at me and says he needs more attention. I look at him and say, "Really?? YOU need MORE attention?? What, you don't get enough kisses and cuddling from me? Are there not enough belly rubs or toys in this world for you, Prince of Tiny Balls?"
But as is typical, I proceeded to browse a couple of the most popular dating sites--eHarmoney, Match, LoversAnonymous, and WoofWoofLick. He thinks Match.com would be most appropriate and we proceed to fill out his profile. Name: Moose Poopsie; Age: 7 yrs (so he can more "mature"); Height: Stumpy; Color: Red.
Personality: I tend to constantly sniff everything under the sun. Even if I've sniffed it 10 times before I'm certain its scent will change this time. I'm always happy and whatever I can do to be near my mother I will do; therefore, she must be present at all dates. Not only that but there are not enough phone books in the world for me to be able to reach the pedals if I wanted to drive myself. If you have a cute butt, please know that I will constantly be smelling it and if it annoys you and you happen to snap at me and growl and try to intimidate me, it won't work. I'll simply think it's a game and will continue to do it. Your so-called aggressive tactics to get me to stop will mostly likely only encourage me to keep doing it. Also, being that I am blind in my right eye, if I really like you I ask that you stand on my left side so I can secretly give you the side-eye. I tend to get excited about everything and that blind side sometimes causes me to run into the wall if I turn to quickly in my effort to demonstrate my agility and talent in chasing my own tail. I can do that in both directions--I'll chase it to the right several times and if I'm woozy I unwind myself by chasing it the left a few times. Good stuff. I have no money, no job, and no education. But I got a killer playlist on my iPod and more toys than anyone can imagine. As a bonus, my mother has a lot of great underwear and if our relationship works out, I bet I can score the light pink pair she just bought. That top drawer of her dresser is a frickin gold mine, so if you have a ladder, you will go to the top of my list of prospects. Here's my best pose:
And now he ran to the bathroom to groom himself and as he's running his right flip flop flies into the magazine rack. The left one would have hit Napoleon in the head if only he'd been a half inch taller. This Cougar is back to studying and working her way towards providing a better life for her poopsie...