So, I get up yesterday morning in a totally shitty mood. There's a reason for it, but I choose not to go there. Suffice it to say that SOMEONE chose Friday night as their "Night to be NOT NICE."
I had a very good conversation with Dory, who, by the way, totally answered questions that I posed to her a MILLION years ago, and I did not link to them. Because I am a lazy bitch, I think. Or maybe I forgot. Or a combination of the two, probably. Anyway, the conversation with Dory helped rise me up out of the muck a bit.
A hilarious email from my friend Mark Willie helped some more.
And a conversation with someone else made me decide to MAKE MY SATURDAY COUNT. I was bound and determined to make yesterday ALL ABOUT MISS ANNE. In fact, I declared yesterday ALL ABOUT MISS ANNE DAY. And thusly, I spoke it into existence.
I got a shower and headed out. Note that the sun was shining when I made my declaration, and it was RAINING when I headed out. But I was not to be deterred.
I headed to Starbucks for a triple vanilla latte-add whip, which is indeed the nectar of the Gods. I remarked that it was nearly a sexual thing.... Add in a cigarette and it was orgasmic... I'm gonna need a moment to revel in the afterglow.... AHHHHHHHH....
So, um.. ok, after the coffee and cigarette, I drove around aimlessly for a while, listening to Daughtry with the windows down. And yes, I did sing. At the top of my lungs. I sang "Over You" something like 27 times. Or maybe more. I kept backing up through parts of it. That song is a very good song. I'm just sayin'.
Then I went to my office and worked hard for 3 hours. I am awesome. It's official. It's been announced somewhere, I'm sure...
Husband showed up at my office to search hi and low for "The Man Who Drives a Red Truck and Parks Beside Me". I had to shorten his name from "The Man Who Drives a Red Truck and Parks Beside Me and Walk With a Cane, and I Don't Know Where the Fuck He Works, Thank You Very Much, Because I Don't Know Him, Get It?" Because that was just a mouthful, let me tell you. After not finding any strange men, and noting the rising pile of work I had completed, and thus figuring that THERE WAS NOTHING TO SEE HERE, husband left, and I continued working, unimpeded.
Had another great conversation, via text, with someone who declared me "totally kissable" and really, who can argue with that? Ahem.. What I meant to say is, "And really, who wouldn't like to hear that?" What a great Saturday.
Then I remembered.... Holy shit, today is Satan's Birthday. Satan is a loving pet name I gave my husband 24 years ago. I believe it was on our wedding night. But memory is a foggy thing with me. It could have been the next day. Or the day I met him....
I hurried home and offered him the only present I could afford... *Note to self: Next year? Save money for a STORE BOUGHT present.
I prepared a veritable cornucopia of fried items, a meal truly fit for the King of the Netherworld. And there was Cheesecake! Oh thank you for creating Cheesecake, Dear Lord Jesus God.
As befits a man of his status, Husband stood in the kitchen, naked as a jaybird, and ate his dinner. That's right. STANDING UP. Most of him, anyway. Then, he spotted a moth, and went on the HUNT. That is when THIS conversation took place:
Me: What the hell are you doing?
Husband: I gotta kill this moth.
Me: Why are you dragging that chair over to the fridge... OH MY FREAKING GOD, you are gonna show your little tiny peepee to all our neighbors?
Husband: Stop doing that.
Me: Stop doing what?
Husband: Saying "Little Tiny PeePee."
Me: "stares pointedly at little tiny peepee"
Husband: Shut up.
Me: I just call 'em like I see 'em.
As I munched delightedly on CHEESECAKE!! straight from the package, with a fork, we had this delightful interchange:
Husband: Stop doing that.
Me: Do you realize that most of our conversations begin with your telling me to stop doing something?
Husband: Stop eating all the strawberries.
Me: Do you not see this GARGANTUAN pile of strawberries? I am not eating them. I am moving them to the side.
Husband: Why?
Me: So I have greater access to the CHEESECAKE!!
Husband: Well, stop doing that! It's a strawberry cheesecake! You're supposed to eat the strawberries too!
Me: "blink"
Husband: WHAT?!?!?!
Me: Dude, you just told me NOT to eat the strawberries. Then you said, EAT THE STRAWBERRIES. I'm confused, a little. Do I eat a strawberry? Do I not? I am frozen in INDECISION.
Husband: You're a smartass, you know that?
Me: I'm just wishing your peepee were on top of this CHEESECAKE!! Then I could move it aside to get at the CHEESECAKE!!
Husband: You're an asshole.
Me: That is entirely possible.
Later, I tucked him in bed, and got on the computer. Because Rhapsody was calling my name. And more specifically, Creedence Clearwater was calling my name....
As I twirled and stomped and danced and swayed and SANG!! my way through Midnight Special, Lookin' Out My Backdoor, Proud Mary, and Midnight Special THREE more times, I wished desperately for some booze. I rummaged around in the fridge, found a Smirnoff Ice, and some old WINE, and some BUDWEISER, and had myself a guzzle or two...
And it's not a good thing when I drink anything. ANYTHING at all....
This morning, I discovered an embarassing exchange of text messages on my cell phone. And I deleted them before I fully realized the comic treasure that I held in my hands. I might have declared myself PLOPPED. I might have noted that I FUCKED SATAN. I might possibly have even told that someone to stop INTRUSTING me....
Holy mother of God, I am an IDIOT. Dear Person Who Got Those Text Messages: It isn't my fault I'm stoo-pid. I'm just drawn that way....................
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
100 Things About Me... Part the Oneth...
So, I decided to do another 100 things about me. It's been awhile, and maybe a few blogs ago, since I did a 100 Things thing.
This time I decided to break it up into sections, just like all the cool kids are doing.
1) I say "done" instead of "finished". And I'm not ashamed of it.
2) I would never stick a french fry in a frosty, and will gut, like a fish, anyone who attempts it in my presence.
3) I fully believe that I have not had enough sex in my lifetime. Then again, I also fully believe I've had entirely too much.
4) I refuse to believe that Hugh Laurie farts, picks his nose, or chews with his mouth open. The man is a god, people.
5) I do not have control of my destiny. This may not be a bad thing. I do not have control of my bladder, either.
6) The TURKEY of DOOM sits above my desk and looks down on me in disdain.
This time I decided to break it up into sections, just like all the cool kids are doing.
1) I say "done" instead of "finished". And I'm not ashamed of it.
2) I would never stick a french fry in a frosty, and will gut, like a fish, anyone who attempts it in my presence.
3) I fully believe that I have not had enough sex in my lifetime. Then again, I also fully believe I've had entirely too much.
4) I refuse to believe that Hugh Laurie farts, picks his nose, or chews with his mouth open. The man is a god, people.
5) I do not have control of my destiny. This may not be a bad thing. I do not have control of my bladder, either.
6) The TURKEY of DOOM sits above my desk and looks down on me in disdain.
7) I do not like the TURKEY of DOOM.
8) I think men are like cute little puppy dogs.
9) I like puppy dogs.
10) If I lost my ability to read, I would throw myself off a cliff.
8) I think men are like cute little puppy dogs.
9) I like puppy dogs.
10) If I lost my ability to read, I would throw myself off a cliff.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
SCRABBLE!! It's the newest aphrodisiac!!
You guys know how I love Scrabble. I was delighted to discover that I could play on Facebook. Nobody in my family can beat me, so they won't play with me. I'm not bragging. I've been playing Scrabble since I was a li'l kid. And I knows me lots of words.
Imagine, if you will, my shock and horror at realizing that SOME really, really stupid people are using my beloved Facebook Scrabulous as a means to their own end. And by end, I mean perverted sexual deviations. What a bunch of FUCKWITS. See, Scrabulous lets you post a REQUEST for a game, and anyone who sees your request and happens to want to sit down for a rousing good game can ACCEPT that request, and voila! The game is afoot.
But some seriously deranged people have come up with a way to FUCK with the purity of thought and love of all things word-y that encompasses a good game of Scrabble.
Of course, I had to share some with you....
Here's what some of these DOINKS are posting in their requests. I've added my thoughts in bold RED:
only cute girls who are looking for a naughty chat... type "yes" if your interested
What I'm mostly interested in, you ignorant ASSCAKE, is seeing an end to the era of the "I'm too lazy and/or stupid to add the EXTRA TWO characters it takes to use the grammatically correct YOU'RE" debacle. But then, I'm not a "cute girl," so what do I know?
Looking for feisty, flirty, filthy & fabulous women who fancy a quickie...
Here is a classic example of how ALLITERATION is not always a good thing. I'm ok with feisty, flirty and fabulous. But FILTHY? What the fuck? Is this a sexual thing, or are you just into grunge?
I don't want weird chat. I prefer ladies. I dislike pumpkin soup. This beard was temporary. I enjoy hats.
Hee. I'll play scrabble with you anytime, darling. (And in fact, I did. Wonderful game. I won. The end.)
START NOW AND FINISH IN ONE SITTING. Do you hear me? If you disappear after a few moves I will come after you and drink your blood in your skull.
Methinks you could use a therapist, sweetie. Or perhaps you are simply in the wrong room. The "SATANIC SCRABBLE SQUAD" meets down the hall.
young girls only pls, who wants sex chat! strat chat with somethin hot...
Ok, Chester-the-Molestor, do TWO things for me. No, wait... THREE. 1) Learn to spell... this is a fucking SCRABBLE game, you fucking moron. No, wait, only TWO things. 2) DIE. Ok, no, three. 3) please learn verb tense. It's a beautiful thing.
wives in UK for hot fun
Hey commitment-phobe! Find a girl. Settle down.
i like playing with men .. he he
Honey, don't we all? But seriously, do I need to remind you that this is SCRABBLE, not SPIN-THE-FUCKING-BOTTLE?
Glamourous LADY magicians assistant required for sawing in half and scrabulous. No cheaters or wordfinders
Damn, someone grabbed you up before I got a chance to ask you which comes first. The sawing or the Scrabbling.
Size 16 or bigger GIRLS, UK only plz, If you don't look that big on your pic I will delete :-)
Am I missing something here? Are fat ENGLISH girls smarter than fat AMERICAN girls? How exciting to know that all I need to do is move to the UK, where they APPRECIATE us fat girls. And oh, how we BBW's TRY to look THAT BIG in our pics..... I hope a building falls on your penis.
young hot guy....loves older naughty woman...lets play
Aw, aren't you just adorable. Here's my number, call me... Love, Mrs. Robinson
G a y scrabble with a strange chap in jAKARTA?
GAY Scrabble? SERIOUSLY? That's a real thing?
no nose pickers. no people in a rush. no al qaeda, no antelopes. no scousers. no smelly people. no chocolate santas. no retards. anyone else is fine, av score 370/380.
Couple of quick things: 1) What's a scouser? 2) You have "smell-net?" How cool is that? I think I'd PREFER the antelopes, thanks....
Looking for a filthy girl for a quickie....
Again with the filthy? Is filthy the new CLEAN? Nobody told ME! I've been bathing every fucking day! What a waste! No wonder I can't get a man... Well, you know, if I weren't married and all...
Looking sleazy girl to talk dirty to me
Honey, do me and yourself a favor. Write a letter to your mommy. Go read a book. Blow some bubbles. I know it's lonely out there, but seriously, sleazy girls are just... sleazy.
more chat than scrabble...flirty women please
So, let me get this straight... You post a REQUEST for a SCRABBLE game... but you really only want a CHAT. With a FLIRTY woman. Honey, the FLIRTY women are out there in the WORLD, having sex with MEN. The rest of us just want a fucking peaceful game of SCRABBLE. Go out. Mix. Mingle. You'll meet that flirty woman. REALLY. I promise. You'll find her. OUT IN THE WORLD.
A challenge to all beautiful sexy undergrads , grads, and PhD's to play erotic scrabble... chat on AIM YAHOO or GMAIL PROFILE PIC OR DELETE!
Well, aren't YOU just the little fucking SNOB! No dummies, uglies or prudes for YOU, huh? Or you will DELETE!! Golly. I think I may have gone to high school with you....
Looking for a feisty, flirty woman for some fun while we play...
See, the PLAYING is the FUN thing, you MOOK. It's SCRABBLE. Sex is fun. SCRABBLE is fun. Both work just fine as a stand-alone endeavor.
FAST GAME, LETS GO, BOOM BOOM!!!!! WHEN I SAY FAST I REALLY MEAN FAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SINGLE FEMALES ONLY, BRAINIACS NEED NOT APPLY!! IF I LOSE I WILL STRIP FOR U ON MY WEBCAM!! Nd DO THE NAKED FUNKY CHICKEN!!
Here's some advice for you, pumpkin: Lay off the fucking coffee. And you needn't worry about the braniacs... I cannot imagine anyone with an IQ over 50 would seriously spend an hour of their time hoping to catch a glimpse of your naked funky chicken. And, pray tell, GENIUS, what is Nd? Is the word AND so long for you that you have to FUCKING abbreviate it?
And my all time, most FAVORITE request:
i need to be touched
Sweetie, I'm gonna be gentle with you, because it's quite obvious you are a deranged serial killer. But there is SO MUCH wrong with those 5 little words. I'll just touch on the MAJOR ones: 1) You can't be touched here. YOU ARE ON THE COMPUTER. 2) No one is really here to TOUCH YOU anyway. This is a FUCKING SCRABBLE GAME. For the love of all that is HOLY and SCRABULOUS, this is a game of skill, intelligence, and strategy. It is not a dating service. It is not therapy. (something of which, by the way, you are sorely in need) It is not a WHOREHOUSE, or a sex shop, or a fetish-ist's WET DREAM. IT IS A GAME. 3) I'm sorry that your mommy beat you. Or burned you with the waffle iron. Or whatever she did to you that fucked you up so badly. 4) There is a whole great big world out there... full of other nutjobs like you, who probably would be THRILLED to touch you. Don't kill any of them with an icepick. Don't play Scrabble with any of them either.
Imagine, if you will, my shock and horror at realizing that SOME really, really stupid people are using my beloved Facebook Scrabulous as a means to their own end. And by end, I mean perverted sexual deviations. What a bunch of FUCKWITS. See, Scrabulous lets you post a REQUEST for a game, and anyone who sees your request and happens to want to sit down for a rousing good game can ACCEPT that request, and voila! The game is afoot.
But some seriously deranged people have come up with a way to FUCK with the purity of thought and love of all things word-y that encompasses a good game of Scrabble.
Of course, I had to share some with you....
Here's what some of these DOINKS are posting in their requests. I've added my thoughts in bold RED:
only cute girls who are looking for a naughty chat... type "yes" if your interested
What I'm mostly interested in, you ignorant ASSCAKE, is seeing an end to the era of the "I'm too lazy and/or stupid to add the EXTRA TWO characters it takes to use the grammatically correct YOU'RE" debacle. But then, I'm not a "cute girl," so what do I know?
Looking for feisty, flirty, filthy & fabulous women who fancy a quickie...
Here is a classic example of how ALLITERATION is not always a good thing. I'm ok with feisty, flirty and fabulous. But FILTHY? What the fuck? Is this a sexual thing, or are you just into grunge?
I don't want weird chat. I prefer ladies. I dislike pumpkin soup. This beard was temporary. I enjoy hats.
Hee. I'll play scrabble with you anytime, darling. (And in fact, I did. Wonderful game. I won. The end.)
START NOW AND FINISH IN ONE SITTING. Do you hear me? If you disappear after a few moves I will come after you and drink your blood in your skull.
Methinks you could use a therapist, sweetie. Or perhaps you are simply in the wrong room. The "SATANIC SCRABBLE SQUAD" meets down the hall.
young girls only pls, who wants sex chat! strat chat with somethin hot...
Ok, Chester-the-Molestor, do TWO things for me. No, wait... THREE. 1) Learn to spell... this is a fucking SCRABBLE game, you fucking moron. No, wait, only TWO things. 2) DIE. Ok, no, three. 3) please learn verb tense. It's a beautiful thing.
wives in UK for hot fun
Hey commitment-phobe! Find a girl. Settle down.
i like playing with men .. he he
Honey, don't we all? But seriously, do I need to remind you that this is SCRABBLE, not SPIN-THE-FUCKING-BOTTLE?
Glamourous LADY magicians assistant required for sawing in half and scrabulous. No cheaters or wordfinders
Damn, someone grabbed you up before I got a chance to ask you which comes first. The sawing or the Scrabbling.
Size 16 or bigger GIRLS, UK only plz, If you don't look that big on your pic I will delete :-)
Am I missing something here? Are fat ENGLISH girls smarter than fat AMERICAN girls? How exciting to know that all I need to do is move to the UK, where they APPRECIATE us fat girls. And oh, how we BBW's TRY to look THAT BIG in our pics..... I hope a building falls on your penis.
young hot guy....loves older naughty woman...lets play
Aw, aren't you just adorable. Here's my number, call me... Love, Mrs. Robinson
G a y scrabble with a strange chap in jAKARTA?
GAY Scrabble? SERIOUSLY? That's a real thing?
no nose pickers. no people in a rush. no al qaeda, no antelopes. no scousers. no smelly people. no chocolate santas. no retards. anyone else is fine, av score 370/380.
Couple of quick things: 1) What's a scouser? 2) You have "smell-net?" How cool is that? I think I'd PREFER the antelopes, thanks....
Looking for a filthy girl for a quickie....
Again with the filthy? Is filthy the new CLEAN? Nobody told ME! I've been bathing every fucking day! What a waste! No wonder I can't get a man... Well, you know, if I weren't married and all...
Looking sleazy girl to talk dirty to me
Honey, do me and yourself a favor. Write a letter to your mommy. Go read a book. Blow some bubbles. I know it's lonely out there, but seriously, sleazy girls are just... sleazy.
more chat than scrabble...flirty women please
So, let me get this straight... You post a REQUEST for a SCRABBLE game... but you really only want a CHAT. With a FLIRTY woman. Honey, the FLIRTY women are out there in the WORLD, having sex with MEN. The rest of us just want a fucking peaceful game of SCRABBLE. Go out. Mix. Mingle. You'll meet that flirty woman. REALLY. I promise. You'll find her. OUT IN THE WORLD.
A challenge to all beautiful sexy undergrads , grads, and PhD's to play erotic scrabble... chat on AIM YAHOO or GMAIL PROFILE PIC OR DELETE!
Well, aren't YOU just the little fucking SNOB! No dummies, uglies or prudes for YOU, huh? Or you will DELETE!! Golly. I think I may have gone to high school with you....
Looking for a feisty, flirty woman for some fun while we play...
See, the PLAYING is the FUN thing, you MOOK. It's SCRABBLE. Sex is fun. SCRABBLE is fun. Both work just fine as a stand-alone endeavor.
FAST GAME, LETS GO, BOOM BOOM!!!!! WHEN I SAY FAST I REALLY MEAN FAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SINGLE FEMALES ONLY, BRAINIACS NEED NOT APPLY!! IF I LOSE I WILL STRIP FOR U ON MY WEBCAM!! Nd DO THE NAKED FUNKY CHICKEN!!
Here's some advice for you, pumpkin: Lay off the fucking coffee. And you needn't worry about the braniacs... I cannot imagine anyone with an IQ over 50 would seriously spend an hour of their time hoping to catch a glimpse of your naked funky chicken. And, pray tell, GENIUS, what is Nd? Is the word AND so long for you that you have to FUCKING abbreviate it?
And my all time, most FAVORITE request:
i need to be touched
Sweetie, I'm gonna be gentle with you, because it's quite obvious you are a deranged serial killer. But there is SO MUCH wrong with those 5 little words. I'll just touch on the MAJOR ones: 1) You can't be touched here. YOU ARE ON THE COMPUTER. 2) No one is really here to TOUCH YOU anyway. This is a FUCKING SCRABBLE GAME. For the love of all that is HOLY and SCRABULOUS, this is a game of skill, intelligence, and strategy. It is not a dating service. It is not therapy. (something of which, by the way, you are sorely in need) It is not a WHOREHOUSE, or a sex shop, or a fetish-ist's WET DREAM. IT IS A GAME. 3) I'm sorry that your mommy beat you. Or burned you with the waffle iron. Or whatever she did to you that fucked you up so badly. 4) There is a whole great big world out there... full of other nutjobs like you, who probably would be THRILLED to touch you. Don't kill any of them with an icepick. Don't play Scrabble with any of them either.
Monday, April 14, 2008
It's bloody fucking monday again, ain't it?
I have decided that, since my brain is never fully open for business until TUESDAY, that I shall declare this particular day of the week "Meaningless Meandering Monday!!" A day in which I can spew forth stream-o'-consciousness ramblings like vomitus at a frat house kegger. And without further ado, let us begin the first
MEANINGLESS MEANDERING MONDAY
The End.
- So, I found out that I'm fairly good at writing porn. Who knew? I have, however, been assured that it is so. I would post it here and let you read it, because my middle name is "I'll fucking post ANYTHING," but really, a girl's gotta have a few secrets, right?
- I have actually located a cleaning lady who did NOT run screaming from my house at first sight. She comes this a.m. to work her magic, and I can tell you, it CAN'T happen soon enough for me. Thank God I have a job, so I can't be called on to help her. *confidential to the Husband: Remember when I said I would pay you back whatever she charged you, because I am lazy and good for nothing (except for writing porn!!) and hiring her was MY idea? Dude... I totally had my fingers crossed behind my back.
- Thing 2 wants to go visit her sister at college this week, as it is Spring Break for some here in good ol' West-by-God-Virginia, and Husband has nixed the idea. Which totally pisses me off, because Husband must travel to Virginia this week, and I was totally gonna spend that whole day writing PORN. I'm still working on it, though. Because my middle name is "big, fat, tenacious M."
- On a more serious note, my friend Luann lost her father last week, and my heart is absolutely breaking for her. We haven't spent much time talking for several months, which is totally my fault, because I am the WORST BEST FRIEND EVER... Forgive me, Lulu, and know that whatever prayers I am able to pray are being sent out at lightning speed, headed straight atcha. Any of you who feel like helping me give oodles of love and warm hugs to my friend should head on over to Just Lu, and leave a sincere message of deepest sympathy. She hasn't posted for a long time, but that doesn't matter, I'm sure she'll see any new comments.
- I am completely addicted to American Idol. This is the first year that nearly EVERYONE deserves to win. And I say nearly because, Miss Christy Lee Cook deserves only to be chased off that stage and a formal apology and RE-invite sent out to hunky Michael Johns. Who NEVER should have been ousted from that show at such an early stage, thank you very much. Is it crazy that I have, like, NOT enough money to pay my bills, yet am seriously contemplating spending 60-something dollars on itunes, downloading every song by Michael Johns, David Archuleta, Jason Castro, Carly Smithson, and Brooke White (except for the putrid version of "Here Comes the Sun" which made my head spin around backwords and made me spontaneously spit LATIN words in the general direction of the television screen)? Yeah, I thought so too, which is why I haven't done it yet. But soon, SOON, I will not be able to resist.
- The "work that has of yet not been completed" saga continues at my office. I heard through the grapevine that I am to receive an ass chewing of epic proportions on Tuesday, should I sweep through the doors with less than THREE completed bankruptcies in tow. Damn bunch of whiners, calling to complain simply because it's been a COUPLE of months since you paid for your bankruptcy to be filed... I told you I'd GET TO IT, as soon as I could! Do you know how busy I am in a day? There are Scrabulous moves to be made, Twitter-y tweats to be read, emails to answer, books to be ordered from Amazon.com, "Can I help you?" smiles to be practiced, (only because you FROWN on me greeting clients with my standard, "What the fuck do YOU want?" oh Fearless Leader"), and delicious, nutritious lunches to be planned, shopped for, and prepared. And then devoured, of course.
- I am, however, proud to announce that I have completed 1.87 of said bankruptcies, and shall be wearing my "That's right, motherfucker, I AM the queen" smirk come Tuesday morning. So stick THAT in your backpocket, you smarmy bitches. (and by you, I mean someone(s) OTHER than you, sweet readers. Stop being so touchy!)
- I posed a hypothetical question to Husband this weekend. And it was this: "How long do you plan on punishing me, you self-righteous, scum-sucking, smug bastard?" To which his answer was thus: "Well, how long have you punished ME? 24 years? Yeah, probably about THAT long..." So, since my sins were committed mostly about 4 years ago, seems I'm gonna be doin' hard time for about twenty more years. *sigh* Somehow, forgiveness doesn't MEAN the same thing in my house, as it does for the REST of humanity...
- I watched "Martian Child" this weekend, and a better movie has not been viewed by yours truly in some time. I highly recommend it should there be some of you who have not yet seen it. Awesome movie. John Cusack has moved right onto my "Oh he's TOTALLY do-able" list.
- In other fab news, Juno will be released on DVD this week, and I urge you to RUN, not walk, to your nearest Wal-Mart, to purchase this FABULOUS movie. I swear you will not be disappointed. I'd say if you didn't like it, I'd PERSONALLY refund your money, but I'm sure SOME of you, *cough Avitable cough*, would email me with a long list of complaints, simply to cash in on my innocence. Seriously, check out this movie if you are among the 3 or 4 people who haven't seen it.
The End.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The answers, they just KEEP coming!!!
Burfica:
I'm on your blogroll, but how come you don't visit me religiously like I do you???
I'm sorry, Burfie. I don't visit anyone religiously. I'll try to do better, I promise.
NYC Watchdog:
I just want to know the basics, like...
1) Coke or Pepsi?
2) Diet soda or not?
2a) If diet, is it for the taste or the calories?
2b) If not, then what do you have against diet?
3) Meat or potatoes?
3a) If meat, what's your favorite cut?
3b) If potatoes, then what do you have against meat?
4) What is your favorite color?
4a) If your favorite color is orange, then why is your blog background red?
4b) If your favorite color isn't orange, then why isn't it?
4c) Orange is the new pink, did you know that?
5) What made you first start blogging?
5a) How long have you been blogging?
5b) Why did you wait so long until you started blogging?
5c) How long do you think you'll blog for?
My God, you don't wanna know much, do you? *deep breath* ok, here goes:
Diet Coke all the way. With Lime, too. Because I've been drinking Diet Coke since it was created....
Meat AND Potatoes. Ribeye. But I also love turkey and chicken. Baked potatoes, french fries, and sweet potato chips.
My favorite color is pink. My blog background is red because red is just cool. And also because whoever created this blogskin deemed it thusly. I have nothing against orange, but pink will always be the BEST pink.
I started blogging because a friend suggested it. He thought it would help me be less crazy. He was wrong. I think it's been close to four years. Or maybe 3. Hell, I'm HORRIBLE with time. I never even HEARD of blogging till my friend told me about it. I THINK I will blog forever. But I could be wrong. I'm wrong a lot.
Bina:
What's the worst thing you ever did as a teenager that you wish to God you could take back?
I took a lot of valium, locked my bedroom door and went to bed. Scared the fuck out of my mother, who found me....
Now tell me yours...
THopgood:
If I stroke your ego will you stroke mine?
Abso-fuckin'-lutely...
Dory:
Were you in any clubs when you were in school?
What did you think of kids that were in clubs?
I've taken tylenol, advil, and tylenol sinus, yet my head still hurts. Why?
I think I joined the Bible Club, to get my picture taken, because I looked REALLY good that day. Also, I was in FBLA... hahahahaha, my God, what a fucking HOOT that was.
As I general rule, I hated kids that were in clubs. But then, as a general rule, I hated everybody.
Your head hurts because your husband is a PRISSY GIRL. hee.
Used*to*be*me:
What was your other blog? (I told you I was nosey)
I get to play the *I can't answer this question* card, because doing so would reveal my real name to a possible psychotic stalker who will then come gut me like a fish... But if you'd like, you can ask me another nosey question, and I'll try to answer it...
Bubbles (who isn't fooling anybody, MITCHELL):
To Avitable, get semen out by licking it.
To Bina, got married.
To Thopgood, only if you stroke her first.
To Dory, xanax bar will make your head stop hurting.
To Use To Be, She portrayed a lesbian transexual undergoing aromatherapy.
To Mitchell, give me your e-harmony website.
These are not questions, you imbecile. But I do feel I have to expound on YOUR answers to MY questions:
I've never voluntarily licked semen out of anything. You, however, were friends with a gay guy, who gave you dope. hmmm. Got anything you'd like to share?
I do NOT regret getting married. I have two of the most amazing daughters in the world, and I would trade them for NOTHING. If I regret anything, it's what I did to RUIN my marriage. Or, staying IN a bad marriage, at least for the last 5 years.
I am always up for a good stroking.
Dory, don't listen to him. He's an ex-crack head. He just trying to dope you up so he can have his wiley way with you.
I most certainly did NOT portray a lesbian transexual. Where do you GET this stuff?
I'm telling Kate you have an e-harmony website. You are a lecherous OLD fuck. You're lucky I love you as much as I do.
Sleeping Mommy:
1. What is your biggest fear?
2. What is your guiltiest TV viewing pleasure?
3. Who at your house does the yardwork?
4. And does it get done on time, or only after the grass reaches the knees? (like it usually does at my house)
I have two giant fears: a) That my children will be harmed, and God help the motherfucker who does it; and b) That there are little army men in my jello. Cause seriously, nobody chews that shit! They could put ANYTHING in there!!!
My guiltiest TV viewing pleasure is probably Law & Order reruns. I'll watch it for HOURS. Also, Rob & Big. I'm trying to get Thing 1 to marry Rob. I'm sure he'll agree. She's always so PLEASANT!!!
I have no idea who does the yardwork. I only know it isn't me. Probably a combination of Husband, Thing 2, and Father-in-Law. Thing 1 wouldn't mow a blade of grass if it would save an endangered species. Neither would I.
No, usually our grass is so high that you have to watch out for bears when you go out to get in your car. I have taken to carrying a hot curling iron to my car with me. I'll either burn the fucker to death, or give him a nice wave......
I think that was the last of them. If I missed your question, or if you have another one for me? Comment me, darlings....
I'm on your blogroll, but how come you don't visit me religiously like I do you???
I'm sorry, Burfie. I don't visit anyone religiously. I'll try to do better, I promise.
NYC Watchdog:
I just want to know the basics, like...
1) Coke or Pepsi?
2) Diet soda or not?
2a) If diet, is it for the taste or the calories?
2b) If not, then what do you have against diet?
3) Meat or potatoes?
3a) If meat, what's your favorite cut?
3b) If potatoes, then what do you have against meat?
4) What is your favorite color?
4a) If your favorite color is orange, then why is your blog background red?
4b) If your favorite color isn't orange, then why isn't it?
4c) Orange is the new pink, did you know that?
5) What made you first start blogging?
5a) How long have you been blogging?
5b) Why did you wait so long until you started blogging?
5c) How long do you think you'll blog for?
My God, you don't wanna know much, do you? *deep breath* ok, here goes:
Diet Coke all the way. With Lime, too. Because I've been drinking Diet Coke since it was created....
Meat AND Potatoes. Ribeye. But I also love turkey and chicken. Baked potatoes, french fries, and sweet potato chips.
My favorite color is pink. My blog background is red because red is just cool. And also because whoever created this blogskin deemed it thusly. I have nothing against orange, but pink will always be the BEST pink.
I started blogging because a friend suggested it. He thought it would help me be less crazy. He was wrong. I think it's been close to four years. Or maybe 3. Hell, I'm HORRIBLE with time. I never even HEARD of blogging till my friend told me about it. I THINK I will blog forever. But I could be wrong. I'm wrong a lot.
Bina:
What's the worst thing you ever did as a teenager that you wish to God you could take back?
I took a lot of valium, locked my bedroom door and went to bed. Scared the fuck out of my mother, who found me....
Now tell me yours...
THopgood:
If I stroke your ego will you stroke mine?
Abso-fuckin'-lutely...
Dory:
Were you in any clubs when you were in school?
What did you think of kids that were in clubs?
I've taken tylenol, advil, and tylenol sinus, yet my head still hurts. Why?
I think I joined the Bible Club, to get my picture taken, because I looked REALLY good that day. Also, I was in FBLA... hahahahaha, my God, what a fucking HOOT that was.
As I general rule, I hated kids that were in clubs. But then, as a general rule, I hated everybody.
Your head hurts because your husband is a PRISSY GIRL. hee.
Used*to*be*me:
What was your other blog? (I told you I was nosey)
I get to play the *I can't answer this question* card, because doing so would reveal my real name to a possible psychotic stalker who will then come gut me like a fish... But if you'd like, you can ask me another nosey question, and I'll try to answer it...
Bubbles (who isn't fooling anybody, MITCHELL):
To Avitable, get semen out by licking it.
To Bina, got married.
To Thopgood, only if you stroke her first.
To Dory, xanax bar will make your head stop hurting.
To Use To Be, She portrayed a lesbian transexual undergoing aromatherapy.
To Mitchell, give me your e-harmony website.
These are not questions, you imbecile. But I do feel I have to expound on YOUR answers to MY questions:
I've never voluntarily licked semen out of anything. You, however, were friends with a gay guy, who gave you dope. hmmm. Got anything you'd like to share?
I do NOT regret getting married. I have two of the most amazing daughters in the world, and I would trade them for NOTHING. If I regret anything, it's what I did to RUIN my marriage. Or, staying IN a bad marriage, at least for the last 5 years.
I am always up for a good stroking.
Dory, don't listen to him. He's an ex-crack head. He just trying to dope you up so he can have his wiley way with you.
I most certainly did NOT portray a lesbian transexual. Where do you GET this stuff?
I'm telling Kate you have an e-harmony website. You are a lecherous OLD fuck. You're lucky I love you as much as I do.
Sleeping Mommy:
1. What is your biggest fear?
2. What is your guiltiest TV viewing pleasure?
3. Who at your house does the yardwork?
4. And does it get done on time, or only after the grass reaches the knees? (like it usually does at my house)
I have two giant fears: a) That my children will be harmed, and God help the motherfucker who does it; and b) That there are little army men in my jello. Cause seriously, nobody chews that shit! They could put ANYTHING in there!!!
My guiltiest TV viewing pleasure is probably Law & Order reruns. I'll watch it for HOURS. Also, Rob & Big. I'm trying to get Thing 1 to marry Rob. I'm sure he'll agree. She's always so PLEASANT!!!
I have no idea who does the yardwork. I only know it isn't me. Probably a combination of Husband, Thing 2, and Father-in-Law. Thing 1 wouldn't mow a blade of grass if it would save an endangered species. Neither would I.
No, usually our grass is so high that you have to watch out for bears when you go out to get in your car. I have taken to carrying a hot curling iron to my car with me. I'll either burn the fucker to death, or give him a nice wave......
I think that was the last of them. If I missed your question, or if you have another one for me? Comment me, darlings....
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Why Does Being Me Suck So Much?
So, taking a break from the questions, just for today.
I think I have more than my share of stress. Perhaps I'm just a big fat whinycrybabyface, but I struggle, continuously, to keep the shit and the muck out of my life, and keep my attention and my effort focused elsewhere.
But sometimes it just isn't possible. And it gets built up inside of me, twisting and throbbing and whispering and pulsating, like an evil thing, until I don't think I can stand it anymore. And then I usually have to come to my blog and rant and rave and scream and piss and moan, until I feel better.
Those of you who have been with me through multiple blogs know that I do this on occasion. And you're still here, so I have to assume that, either you don't MIND so much when I go apeshit, or you're as crazy as a soup sandwich yourself, and reading MY craziness makes YOU feel better about yours. I'm happy to help. You all know my middle name is "Help your fellow man."
Here are a few things that have me twisted up in knots, currently:
I'm missing my daddy. I haven't talked to him in a while, weeks actually, and the main reason for this is that when I DO talk to him, I only miss him more. I want to just drop everything and run to Florida for a visit, because nothing helps when you're feeling all of life's ICKY, like a visit with your DADDY.
Brother 2's life-suckage is creeping over into my space in a big way. This is, of course, due to him FLINGING it at me, in the hopes that I can make it all better. Because that's what I always do. When life hands HIM a bowl of lemons, *I* whip him up a frosty tall glass of lemonade. But this time, I don't feel like coming to his rescue. This time, I don't wanna be the hero. Maybe that sounds selfish. I don't care. This time, I want someone to rescue ME.
My job has gone to hell in a handbasket. I'm so behind in my work it isn't even funny. The only reason I still HAVE a job, is that I keep distracting my boss with delicious and nutritious lunches. Truly, the way to that ol' coot's heart is through his stomach. I can make a monstrous mistake, that costs us a client; then, when he is SCREAMING at me, I say, "You know, I haven't made EGGPLANT for you for a while. I'll pick up the stuff this evening and make it for you tomorrow. We'll settle up on money later." This does TWO things: IMMEDIATELY his eyes glaze over at the MENTION of the word eggplant. And his heart MELTS at the words "settle up later..." My boss is the KING of settling up later.
Thing 1 posted a vaguely pornographic picture of Thing 2 on her Facebook. And also on her MySpace. Ok, NOT pornographic, but... ICKY, nonetheless. Granted, since I know she will likely point this out in the comments, at first I laughed at the picture and posted a comment to it. Then I freaked out because THAT IS MY BABY, y'all, and I told her to take that picture the fuck down.
Thing 1 has a real problem with being told what to do. So, we argued. From a legal standpoint, I told her she could get in trouble, since she is over 21, for posting compromising pictures of her MINOR sister. Of course she then started looking up laws and statutes and legal codes..... Good God, she will argue until you don't have any brains left with which to make a valid point with her. She should truly make a good attorney.
At any rate, she finally took it down, but was extremely mean to me in the doing of it. And when I came home, Thing 2 met me at the fucking door and, catching the baton easily from her sister, continued the argument far into the night. For what it's worth, they both apologized for the way they talked to me, but I'm not in the mood to be forgiving, seeing as how I think they only apologized because I threatened to take away their concert tickets that I spent $150 of my NONEXISTENT secret horde of dollars.
There is something that I want that I CANNOT have. This is nothing new, as there is ALWAYS something that I want that I can't have. The difference here is, while always before I could daydream and fantasize what I would do when the thing I wanted DID finally belong to me, this time I don't know WHAT the fuck I would do with it if I had it. For the first time in my life, I want something that I don't want. That's me folks. A puzzle, wrapped in a big fucking pink enigma....
Husband seems to have stepped up his efforts to MAKE ME SPONTANEOUSLY DIE. There is more drinking involved. There is more, "But YOU are the LIAR and CHEAT. I am a VICTIM." There is more screaming. There is more suspicion. There is more doubt and dread and despair. Interestingly, there is also more ME, caring LESS and LESS. *sigh* Marriage is not easy. Bad marriages, well, they suck the grey hairs off a crippled old donkey's balls.
In the words of Thing 1, back in the day: "I hate my life. I hate the world...."
I think I have more than my share of stress. Perhaps I'm just a big fat whinycrybabyface, but I struggle, continuously, to keep the shit and the muck out of my life, and keep my attention and my effort focused elsewhere.
But sometimes it just isn't possible. And it gets built up inside of me, twisting and throbbing and whispering and pulsating, like an evil thing, until I don't think I can stand it anymore. And then I usually have to come to my blog and rant and rave and scream and piss and moan, until I feel better.
Those of you who have been with me through multiple blogs know that I do this on occasion. And you're still here, so I have to assume that, either you don't MIND so much when I go apeshit, or you're as crazy as a soup sandwich yourself, and reading MY craziness makes YOU feel better about yours. I'm happy to help. You all know my middle name is "Help your fellow man."
Here are a few things that have me twisted up in knots, currently:
I'm missing my daddy. I haven't talked to him in a while, weeks actually, and the main reason for this is that when I DO talk to him, I only miss him more. I want to just drop everything and run to Florida for a visit, because nothing helps when you're feeling all of life's ICKY, like a visit with your DADDY.
Brother 2's life-suckage is creeping over into my space in a big way. This is, of course, due to him FLINGING it at me, in the hopes that I can make it all better. Because that's what I always do. When life hands HIM a bowl of lemons, *I* whip him up a frosty tall glass of lemonade. But this time, I don't feel like coming to his rescue. This time, I don't wanna be the hero. Maybe that sounds selfish. I don't care. This time, I want someone to rescue ME.
My job has gone to hell in a handbasket. I'm so behind in my work it isn't even funny. The only reason I still HAVE a job, is that I keep distracting my boss with delicious and nutritious lunches. Truly, the way to that ol' coot's heart is through his stomach. I can make a monstrous mistake, that costs us a client; then, when he is SCREAMING at me, I say, "You know, I haven't made EGGPLANT for you for a while. I'll pick up the stuff this evening and make it for you tomorrow. We'll settle up on money later." This does TWO things: IMMEDIATELY his eyes glaze over at the MENTION of the word eggplant. And his heart MELTS at the words "settle up later..." My boss is the KING of settling up later.
Thing 1 posted a vaguely pornographic picture of Thing 2 on her Facebook. And also on her MySpace. Ok, NOT pornographic, but... ICKY, nonetheless. Granted, since I know she will likely point this out in the comments, at first I laughed at the picture and posted a comment to it. Then I freaked out because THAT IS MY BABY, y'all, and I told her to take that picture the fuck down.
Thing 1 has a real problem with being told what to do. So, we argued. From a legal standpoint, I told her she could get in trouble, since she is over 21, for posting compromising pictures of her MINOR sister. Of course she then started looking up laws and statutes and legal codes..... Good God, she will argue until you don't have any brains left with which to make a valid point with her. She should truly make a good attorney.
At any rate, she finally took it down, but was extremely mean to me in the doing of it. And when I came home, Thing 2 met me at the fucking door and, catching the baton easily from her sister, continued the argument far into the night. For what it's worth, they both apologized for the way they talked to me, but I'm not in the mood to be forgiving, seeing as how I think they only apologized because I threatened to take away their concert tickets that I spent $150 of my NONEXISTENT secret horde of dollars.
There is something that I want that I CANNOT have. This is nothing new, as there is ALWAYS something that I want that I can't have. The difference here is, while always before I could daydream and fantasize what I would do when the thing I wanted DID finally belong to me, this time I don't know WHAT the fuck I would do with it if I had it. For the first time in my life, I want something that I don't want. That's me folks. A puzzle, wrapped in a big fucking pink enigma....
Husband seems to have stepped up his efforts to MAKE ME SPONTANEOUSLY DIE. There is more drinking involved. There is more, "But YOU are the LIAR and CHEAT. I am a VICTIM." There is more screaming. There is more suspicion. There is more doubt and dread and despair. Interestingly, there is also more ME, caring LESS and LESS. *sigh* Marriage is not easy. Bad marriages, well, they suck the grey hairs off a crippled old donkey's balls.
In the words of Thing 1, back in the day: "I hate my life. I hate the world...."
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