The Slumber Party

They are down there and they are playing and laughing. They are down there doing super cool slumber party stuff. They are down there watching Tangled and playing hopscotch. They are down there without me. Because I'm not allowed. By my daughters words.

It's a girl's only slumber party.

Hossmom is with them. I'm up in the room sucking on stupid sun flower seeds. I call bullshit.

Girls only? Girls only? A pox on girl's only. What kind of crap is that? Little Hoss is having a friend over for a slumber party, another girl from our Dad's group. It's only thier second slumber party ever and they have both been excited for days.

I know this is normal, don't get me wrong. It's just that I didn't think it would happen for some time, it kind of like this snuck up on me. And I'm a little bit peeved that I have been excluded. There I said it. I want to go to a girl's slumber party because it sounds like they are having super awesome fun time. I picked my toenails.

This all makes me sound creepy, I realize that. I should not want to go to a little girl's slumber party. But it is at my house. I say it is bad etiquitte to have a party at someone's house and not invite them. I bet they are making smores somehow.

I'm not used to be excluded like this in my daughter's life. This is a new one on me. Let's face it, between Hossmom and I, I am the fun one. Her nickname is Practical Mom. My nick name is super awesome space dog. You tell me which one sounds more fun. Hossmom likes to orginize the pantry and pack luggage 5 days before going on a trip.

If I was down there we would have made the stairs into a water slide. And there would have been prizes for the best wreck. We would have streamers and balloons. I would be growly tickle monster and we would play hide and seek and the winner would get a football helmet full of icecream.

But I am not invited.

They want to have girl time to do girlie things. I can do girlie things. Hell, I'm a man in a woman's world, I can girl it up with the best of them. Painting toenails? I'm freaking Picaso at painting little girl's toenails. But I can do it with my paint gun in my garage from 20 feet away. Beat that.

Tea party with princesses. No problem. I own tea party princess time. My fake tea is like the freaking golden necture from the gods. Sure, I may look a bit strange in a princess dress and it may cause for some awarkward questions later in life, but beauty is on the inside and I reek of beauty on the inisde.

Now everyone is quiet. They are probably telling stories, scary stories with happy rainbow stupid endings. I tell the best stories. I write a blog, my stories are awesome. I have 65 followers and a bunch of those people aren't even related to me. My stories rock.

Check this out: Once upon a time a virus entered the world and turned everyone into zombies. It was horrible, brains were being eaten everywhere. Blood, guts and gore was the new normal for the survivors. But suddenly, from behind a rainbow, Dad came with his 300 horsepower chainsaw and chopped all the zombies heads off. Then he made tea. It was great. The end.

See, my stories rock. But no one wants to hear them because this is a girls only slumber party. Hossmom got to attend and she isn't even sending me text messages updating me on the fun.

I know that this is healthy and I am very happy that Hossmom is getting to spend some girl time with her daughter. I know that this is what little girls like to do. I know that there is bonding going on down there right now and that it makes us a stronger family. I get all that. But it would have been nice to have been asked. That's all I'm saying. I am super awesome space dog and super awesome space dog likes to be invited to parties that are at his house. Were people are having fun. Without me.

Fine then. They can have thier fun. I'm going to somehow fashion a giant sling shot out of Hossmom's bra's and launch barbies out my window at the neighbors who seem to be having a pool party. To which I have also not been invited to.

I need a beer.