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The Pilot, my Fiance, is at least 10 feet tall and when provoked can shoot laser-rainbows out of his eyeballs. Easily amused by airplanes and Koala's driving go-karts. Masterfully sings songs to the tune of popular ballads that sometimes involve farts and inappropriate body parts.
Bowie, AKA The Worlds' Douchiest Dog, is a two year old Mini American Eskimo that was spawned from Satan himself. Instead of giving high-fives he slaps you in the face and instead of running around the dog park like a normal dog, he gives out blow-jobs instead.
Tristachio
Master and Commander of this ship of awesome that sails away on the seven seas of awesome, I'm prone to going off on tangents or deeply offending pregnant ladies with my assertion that "You've got a vagina growing in your stomach and you know what that's going to do in 13 years? Bleed!". The person who's at most risk of being victim of my crazy schemes and plots to reduce the risk of Boredom Cancer is the Pilot and Bowie.
This is my little sister. We are so close in age that we practically shared a womb. She read the scratches I left telling her of my stay. She's loud, funny, and mother to my Nephew.
She is also a Step-Mother to two young kids. Between kid wrangling and dealing with her first child, she makes for comedy gold.
