Happy, er, July 5th?

Okay, I'm a day late and a dollar short. (Okay, lots of dollars short, but in for a penny, in for a pound! Done with the cliches now. Promise!)
My July 4th was a bit of a pain in the uterus. Aunt Flo decided to tease me with a hint that she might think about considering a visit sometime in the near future. Did you get all that? Good, 'cause I don't think I could repeat it.
So I was lounging around on my brother in law's couch while everyone else was outside having fun.
Except for Punk, who proceeded to throw a one hour fit right after we arrived and refused to allow me out of her sight for longer than it took to quickly pee and return.
Let me clarify--she refused to let my breasts out of her sight. I think she could have cared less about the rest of me.
Independence Day to Punk means Mommy's Utter Servitude Day in baby. No one bothered to translate for me. Thanks!
So I spent my day hoping my uterus would just fall out and I could kick it under the couch where no one would notice and imitating a National Geographic woman with her orangutan titties hanging out, only covering up with brother in law strolled, in surreptitiously trying not to look until he figured out he wasn't going to see anything tattooed with his brother's name.
On a happy note--Bug and Boo had a great time and so did my husband, who will now be referred to as Stubby.
Because of his fingers, you dirty minded pervs!
So HAPPY JULY 5TH!