I couldn’t live with my blog looking like a shrine to Bret Michaels to the casual passerby. So here I am.

Drunk and stoned-over, grasping at straws.

First off, I can’t wait to see Superbad. You should go see it too. An R rated teen movie that isn’t retarded like America Pie? I’m in. Also, Michael Cera was in Arrested Development and rocked my face off. I’m in. Did I say that already? I’m not even going to look before typing.

Second, I forgot to tell you all that when my mom and I were in SF last week we were walking our cocktails off and saw Good Vibrations across the street. Knowing what it was I ignored its presence. But my mom was all Good Vibrations! What is thaaaat?

It’s a sex shop mom. A world famous sex shop.

A sex shop? We should go in! God bless my mom. Because she was sincere to the core.

Uhhh. OK?Wait, no. I don’t want to go in there with you.

You mean you would go in there, just not with me?

Yes.

But I’m your mom!

I know!

Oh. Right. But we should still go in there!

The conversation ended when I flat out refused to go in and told her there would be no other way about it so just stop asking. When we passed by she stuck her head in and yelled out to me on the sidewalk, It looks so clean and friendly! It’s like they’re buying shoes in there! My mom is the best tipsy friend a girl could have. It is to be expected from the woman who had me singing along to “Sexual Healing” at six.

Third, you know what the best kind of dinner party is? The impromptu kind where a friend calls just as you are about to start cooking and you invite them over. No anticipation, no fretting just hanging out. Love it.

The Millionizer is the verb doer

[tags]Bret Michaels, Good Vibrations, San Francisco, sexual health[/tags]