Nude Model + Children - Which One of These Things Doesn't Belong?

My house is not child-friendly. I've had family here this week & my need for adult conversation, mostly swearing, has reached a fevered bitch pitch. It's not that I don't like kids; they have their moments of adorability like my 6 year old nephew selling out his older brother by telling the sordid details of his many girlfriends - which ones dumped him, which ones kissed him & so on. But for the most part, being a parent appears to consist mainly of chauffeuring, laundering & cooking. While you're doing those things you also need to be entertaining the little people & no, just quietly watching you cook dinner while enjoying a moment of silence does not pass for entertainment. It's fucking exhausting.

I don't remember my parents spending so much play time with me or even wanting them to. I had a ton of Fisher Price toys & was always making up stories for the little plastic people to act out in the castle or the circus caravan. I played with my Barbies. I created a library in my closet with paper pockets for the sign out slips in each book. I did all sorts of stuff all by myself! I played with my best friend across the street a lot or second best friend, who lived two houses down. Just remembering the intricate rankings of friendship & the devastating blow of being dumped as BFF in favor of the new girl down the block makes me laugh. But the point is - if I was stuck inside by myself I had no trouble finding ways to occupy my time without my parents, TV or a video game console, which my parents refused to ever buy me, BTW.

I know behavior while staying at someone else's house is much different than behavior while at home, but I'm seeing this "pay attention to me!" thing all over the place lately. Maybe the parents are trying to squeeze in as much time as they can before their tots become sulky teenagers that only want a ride to the mall. "Daaaaad! I told you not to talk to me in public!!!".

Anyways, trying to kid-proof Chez Madison was...well, it just wasn't. I'm a nude model. I have piles of stiletto heels, slinky lingerie, thongs, bikinis, stockings. None of it is organized & all of it is bursting out of the most benign places. In the bathroom, for example, I usually have a couple of magazines. Apparently titles like American Curves, Leg World & Playboy's Lingerie Special Edition are not appropriate bathroom reading material. Digging through my movie collection to find The Incredibles, I noticed Pussyman's Summer Bash was displayed a tad too prominently. I knew basic things, like I wouldn't be able to surf my usually NWS blogs & webmaster message boards. But it didn't dawn on me to change my desktop photo from this:



Also, I don't have air conditioning. I'm a nude model. You do the math. Just having to wear clothes all day long was tiring. I'm naked so often at home, at least in the summer months, that I've taken to hanging a long shirt up in my hall closet so I can slip something on when I get the mail. Lest you think life is one big sexy Hedonism Alberta here, let me direct you to the Seinfeld episode that defined good naked & bad naked. Fetching a cold beer from the fridge & touching it to my brow - good naked. Hunched over my keyboard updating my blog - not so good naked. Cracking sunflower seeds while watching a movie, one leg tossed over the side of the couch - bad naked. But it's comfortable & cool & I don't care, so nyah! =P