Can you count to ten?

In the spirit of Molly’s lessons on the Big Cunty Couch, I decided to take some mid-afternoon doll-school classes and have discovered that I, too, can count to ten:

1 – number of one night stands I’ve had

2 – number of times I’ve smoked the wacky tobacky

3 – number of centimeters I was dilated after 8 hours of labour

4 – number of consecutive hours of sleep I had last night

5 – number of best real life friends I have that AREN’T mamas

6 – number of guys that tried to pick me up on a single night at a club (ah, to be young…)

7 – number of kisses bestowed upon me by Elliot yesterday

8 – number of times I’ve read Anne of Green Gables

9 – length in inches of my husband’s penis (HE WISHES!!!)

10 – Amount of time it takes to drive to Millet and back from my in-laws when traveling 170 km/hour. Not that I have ever taken my BIL’s sweet-ass Honda Civic out for a spin and cranked up the tunez and tested out that theory. And I have no proof that you can go up to 90 in third in that puppy. Or that the VTEC really purrs when you get her going.

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