A late entry to the Be Weetabix For A Day contest…
Some of you may be wondering why I have stayed with Esteban despite all the charming offers from the Bad Bar boys. “But Weetabix,” you say, “what about all those hot drunk boys who put stickers in your cleavage? Wouldn’t it be romantic to run off with Spike your Vampire Boyfriend? Or maybe the Sbux Guy? Surely he wouldn’t subject you to the nightly trauma of a waterbed.” And while I have no doubt that running off with Spike (my Undead Boyfriend) would add a lot of drama to this humble diary (plus, slayer-type people undoubtedly have the hookup to kickass clothes), there is always this:
Esteban will take care of the Mouse Problem for me. Sure, it takes a little prodding, but after trying for weeks to tempt the damn things with live traps and failing, Esteban is the one who will set the Scary Mousetraps of Doom and take care of them when the mice fall for it and get their furry little necks caught. Gah. Pop-eyed little fuzzy things. It’s enough to give anyonenightmares. There are reasons that I’m a Curvy Sex Goddess and not a Mice Goddess or something. Creepy. Weetabix, Queen of the Mice, just doesn’t have the same ring as Weetabix, Catnip for Lesbians.
And besides that, who’s to say that the Sbux Guy could even keep me in coffee on the salaries those people make? Or understand my seasonal need for Diet Coke? Spike my Undead Boyfriend is a different story, but he’d probably go and sink his teeth into some skinny blond bitch and claim it was in the script or something. “Hey, babe, even the undead have to eat.” No, it’s better this way, even if I’ll have to do ginormous amounts of dishes when I return from San Francisco. Ah, my birthday present to me.
