When You're a Wild One

Sometimes you have to stop waiting and wishing and instead look at what you have before you and be satisfied.

I know I’ll never be the wild one that Sia pines after. Nor the one that looks like she was born to wear a black leather jacket (I mean, who even says *nor* anymore)

And no one's ever going to send me a text that says Shit’s about to get real, y'all. Whuuuuut. *Nor* a text with the word girl in it, with it spelled g-r-r-r-r-l  -- four rr’s no i.

For some more texts I'll never get, it'll be some like these:

Grrrl. You blew it out of the WATER.

Caught that video of you. Crazy!

Everyone’s talkin’ about you. Upstagin’ again.

You are freakin’ kiddin’ me. Don’t do that again. Ev-Er.

Gotta find you. ASAP. Don’t eat all the twizzlers.

Thinking of you. Smiling. Remembering.

If you’re not on board with this, we lose everybody.

Need you for the show. No one else can fill the bill.

It’s all cool. I respect your rap. New side of you. We’ll deal.

No, not on my phone. I've come to peace with that. I’ll just continue walking the wild side over here, with texts like “what time is my ortho appt at?” “get me from swimming at six today” and “can you get me something from mickyd's?”

Although, not to toot my own horn, but there was a time last October when things got a little bit crazy for me. My children's school’s water pipes burst. The parents only had twenty minutes to get their kids before the bathrooms flooded. Guess what kind of messages I had then--

We need you. Come quick.
 
Everything depends on you.
 
Get here as soon as possible.
 
Dire situation. Where ARE you?

 

Yeeeup. Seems I was inaccessible due to filming a live on air segment on laundry room organization.

Neither FloRida nor Sia had a more smokin' phone than me that day.

 

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