Laila Sigurd

Recently minted frustrated blogger... Have been a voracious reader not to mention a chronic insomniac and incurable smart-ass for decades... So, of course, I assumed, like the ignoramus that I am, that writing couldn't possibly be that hard... I mean, I'll get a million likes by next Tuesday, am I right? How hard can it be?? Am I right, or am I right, or am I right??? So my day job (obviously I need to eat ocassionally and perhaps pay a bill or two, and duh, we all know this shit isn't going to make me a dime), is that of frustrated financial analyst for a generic-federal-agency-never-to-be-named. The theory here is sort of like that of the evil character in that popular kids book series; if you don't mention it's name, it can't send it's soul stealers after you... Hopefully... Oh the joy my life holds... it truly is inspiring, is it not? I am a wife (of 25 long fucking years) and the mother of four beautiful, if not extremely obnoxious kids (I mean, come on, look at who's raising them...). One boy who thankfully is married and lives in another town with his wife (great kid, but feeding a 6'3", 200 pound boy is EXPENSIVE), plus he's 24 so yeah, he had to GO! I have 3 daughters who are 11, 12 and 16... UGH. The 11 and 12 year olds are a direct result of tequila (let that be a lesson to you Margarita drinking or body shotting bitches out there!)... They really should put that fucking warning on the label - not that drinking tequila may cause fetal alcohol syndrome but that it may cause PREGNANCY! I guaran-damned-tee you that there would be far fewer unexpected pregnancies out there if they did so... But that's just my humble opinion... What do I know? I'm only a woman... With a uterus... And an unnatural affection for salt and lime...