Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
No seriously, since Friday I’ve felt like when I sneeze my brains are going to come shooting out my ears. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’m a hypochondriac, so it’s probably just a tumor.
I must have did something, to somebody, somewhere because my head is still pounding! I think one of the blood vessels in my temples is going to burst and release my evil chemicals.
In the meantime, while I suffer, I will attempt to distract you all from the fact that my wit is having a heavy metal concert in my brain, with a display of some interesting childhood memories.
I asked my mom and dad to send me some decent baby pictures. And they sent me these…???
Apparently one of my earlier hobbies was walking around the house with a paper bag on my head without undies. That’s my mom poking my belly and of course my dad was taking the photo. Thank God there wasn’t youtube when I was growing up.
Be back as soon as my head is better. ;p
Thursday, April 24, 2008
F*ck tagged, I got attacked by, Hadassah, Afrodite, Lady c, and Monie. Canon tagged me too, but then he took it back. Whatever, I don’t know why y’all want to hear more quirks about me anyway. We already know I suffer from insanity. If I give up anymore information, someone might have me committed.
Well, here goes…
- I think I have OCD. Every time I leave the house I have to come back and check and see if I locked the front door or turned off the flat iron. God forbid my apartment burns down because of something hair related.
- I’m a really big movie buff. If I haven’t seen it, I’ve heard of it. I also like going to the movies by myself. I can sit where I want.
- I really hate cuddling, especially after sex. I’m feeling DL when he was like, “move, scoot over, it’s hot!” lol Don’t get me wrong I like a nice bear hug every now and again, but you can keep all that spooning to yourself, playa.
- I really need to clean out my refrigerator, my car, my closet, like pretty much everything needs some attention.
- I like going to strip clubs. The ones that serve alcohol preferably, because it’s the quickest scheme to getting drunk fast. You see, the guys that go to strip clubs think that if they liquor you up then you’ll hop up on stage and they’ll get a nice random amateur show. Not gonna happen, but thanks for the cocktail homie!
- I really hate when I bump into someone I haven’t seen in a long time and they’re like, “damn you look like you lost a lot of weight.” Um, thanks for the compliment, but I don’t ever remember being that big in the first place????
1. Link the person who tagged you…
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 bloggers by linking them
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged
Monday, April 21, 2008
I went to my friend’s engagement dinner/congratulatory party/death sentence on Friday and there wasn’t a bar. We toasted the soon to be bride and groom with sparkling apple cider. Boo.
Yes folks it’s gotten to the point in my life where if someone tells me their pregnant I can say, “congratulations!” instead of, “Oh sh*t, what are you going to do?” And when someone announces an engagement I have to show up and pretend to care. Well, deep down I do care. I’m really happy for my friend, but engagement parties and baby showers are not really my forte. I prefer something a little more erotic and captivating, with a bar.
There is nothing like a Friday night, mingling sober with other singles who ask you stupid questions like, “when are you getting married?” Well, you have to have something called a man to get married to first, genius.
Then I started to panic. Why am I single? Should I go to the Humane Society to start picking out my 20 cats now? (Naw, f*ck that, I hate cats). Could it be that I’m greedy klutz who has no idea what she wants? Eek! My disastrous dating past started flashing through my mind…
I remember this one time, when I used to date this one guy, (and this one time, at band camp) I was over at his house waiting for him to get off of work. On the coffee table there was a giant glass bowl of M&Ms. Instead of reaching and grabbing just a few M&Ms, my greedy ass went and grabbed the whole bowl. The glass crushed in my hand. (Stupid cheap bowl, grrr). M&Ms flew everywhere and my hand started squirting blood.
I called 911, but they wouldn’t give me any medical advice over the phone and it wasn’t serious enough to call an ambulance. So with blood running down my arm, I quickly picked up all the M&Ms and glass. When he came home about ten minutes later he had to help me get the circulation back into my hand, which had turned a nice shade of blue.
Another time I was dating this other guy (not at band camp) and right before he came over, fatty ate a whole package of red licorice. When he got there we got into this discussion of things we liked and disliked in the opposite sex. One of his vices was when girls threw up, it was a turn off to him. Needless to say, not too soon after that conversation, all that red licorice kicked in and I started projectile vomiting (uncontrollably) a funky red liquid all over him.
Oops my bad. :(
The first time I had sex with my ex, I had stuffed my bra with socks. Usually when I (would *ahem*) stuff my bra I’d do the quick pull out when nobody’s looking. Unfortunately that night I wasn’t quick enough and when he felt me up, he found my thick ass socks. (On the plus side he did end up wearing them to work the next day).
Dating sucks. So do engagement parties without alcohol. I don’t see what the big deal is about being single. I’m enjoying this thing called life people!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Well as some as you might know I have it out for The Hills “star” Heidi Montag.
She fits into that category of people-who-make-you-want-to-stab-yourself-in-the-eye-with-a-fork, repeatedly, as in over and over again. A neverending blinding irritation. I just don’t like her. Something about her makes me want to shoot her in the head.I would never do something like that.I don’t own a gun.I don’t know what it is though.I’ve never met Ms. Montag and I hope I never do. Seems like a conversation with her would be a waste of time. However, (in my mind) for some reason, I interviewed her…
MsP: How’s it goin’ Heidi?
Heidi: Good. Thanks.
MsP: That’s good. I guess. I heard you just recently launched your own clothing line, did you hear about this?
Heidi: Oh yeah! It was my idea.
MsP: Good for you, you had an idea. Fantastic.
Heidi: Yeah, it sucks though because I didn’t get as involved as I would have liked to. I was really busy getting all the fat sucked out of my thighs and running around on the beach in my bikini.
MsP: You have been looking a little slim lately, tell me, when was the last time you ate?
Heidi: A couple of days ago. I think. Wait, um yeah, it was Monday.
MsP: Really, almost a week now. What did you have?
Heidi: A grape.
MsP: Just one grape?
Heidi: Yeah, but then I threw it up after. I was afraid people were going to be able to see the imprint in my stomach lining.
MsP: Oh, I see. So what made you decide to get into music? I don’t know if anyone told you, but, um, well how do I put this lightly? You have NO talent.
Heidi: Really? I thought I was good. Huh. Well anyway, my fiancé told me that my boobs make me look smarter and I was a good singer. I took his word for it. I mean I need something to fall back on after The Hills.
MsP: What about getting an education? Have you thought about that?
Heidi: It’s crucial that I focus on the show, my music, my clothing line, getting plastic surgery, fighting pointless fights with people just as pointless as me, bleaching my hair, staging my relationship, before I worry about those things.
MsP: Oh well you got to do what you got to do. Although, you do look smarter maybe it’s your new boobs and nose, hmmm. Real quick, what’s one plus one?
Heidi: *thinking *
MsP: Nevermind. Well I think I’ve had about as much as I can take. Thanks for joining me on my blog today.
MsP: And we're done...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
I’ve been a very bad blogger!
When I started this blog and I only had like one, maybe two readers. Now I’m having a hard time having a life (yes I have a life f*ckers) and keeping up with all your great blogs! If I missed a post that is a must read, let me know! (firstname.lastname@example.org)
I’ve also updated my blog roll. If I didn’t add you and your life wouldn’t be complete unless I do, let me know! If you are having a baby, asthma attack or don’t know where the f*ck you are, call 911!
Big shout out to all my readers and bloggers out there *MuAh*!!!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
No. Just me. Ok. F*cking fantastic.
Ya know, I love my friends and I’ve come along way as to whom I choose to associate with. As my mom would put it, one of my boyfriends in high school was three days out of his orange jumpsuit before taking me to prom. She’s a little dramatic, but I can’t say that she is wrong, exactly.
And I’m definitely no angel. For example, how else would I be able to tell you that espressos and vodka mixed, are not a good idea? Kind of like a Chihuahua on crack.
Anyway, I went out with my friend and her roommate Monday night. (The same friend who lives with the guy who told the “Angry Pirate” story). So, three bars into the night we end up at this upscale spot. When we walked in and sit down at the bar, the bartender looked at us and started pouring three waters. Thank God, because one more drink and I would have been butt naked on that bar while my friend made a cocktail out of my ass.
“I’ll be right back,” says my friend.
“Ok,” I slurr. “Whoo-hoo, it’s Monday night baby!”
Ten…twenty minutes go by and she still has not come back from the bathroom. Either she’s taking a sh*t or she is passed out, ass up, on the bathroom floor.
“Um, I’ll be right back,” I said to her roommate. “I’m going to go and see if she’s ok.”
On the way into the bathroom I’m thinking, this is going to be bad. I open the door and this b*tch is like a spider on the wall, hanging on for dear life to a giant Buddha head that is screwed into the wall!
“WTF are you doing!?” I yelled.
“I’m trying to get this off,” she replied.
“Where are you going to put it!?”
“In my room.”
“NO! I mean like how the f*ck are you going to get it out of here?”
“I’m just going to carry it up under my shirt,” she said.
Mind you, this b*tch has on like THE tightest tank top ever and the Buddha head was not small. It wasn’t big, but it wouldn’t make three drunk girls look any more discreet.
All of a sudden, like a bomb went off in the building, she comes flying back, clean across the whole bathroom and lands on her ass. She is still holding onto the Buddha head like someone had super glued it into her hands.
I run out of the bathroom and tell her roommate, “um, we need to go…”
We tell the bartender that our girl is throwing up in the bathroom and we need to exit out the back. Five minutes later three drunk girls come stumbling out of the bar, running, with a giant Buddha head. My friend with the Buddha eats sh*t and I’m like Forrest Gump, gone.
Yes, I could have stayed and tried to talk her out of it, but when this girl gets drunk she gets stu-born. I wasn’t about to go to jail for jacking a Buddha head.
Hell maybe, but jail, no thanks. ;p
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Some more information passed onto me from g-sweet. Thanks homie. ;p
1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = you'll be sorry
6. We need to talk = you're in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = you better not
8. Do what you want = you will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = of course I am upset, you moron!
10. You're very attentive tonight = is sex all you ever think about?
1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = let's have sex now
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I'd like to have sex with you
8. Can I call you sometime? = I'd like to have sex with you
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I'd like to have sex with you
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I'd like to have sex with you
11. Those shoes don't go with that outfit = I'm gay
*A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle. For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features.
However when she is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his backside.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Doesn’t it seem like lately everyone wants to be a model or a rapper?
My ex used to make fun of me because for a while I thought I was America’s Next Top Model. I got into some local promotional modeling a few years ago, but sh*t I’m only 5’5”. I don’t know where I thought I was going, but it sure wasn't the runway. (I think at the time I was just bored and needed to fill an insecure void. I’m over it now. Honestly.)
Anyway, when I was on my model hype, I started a page on modelmayhem.com. It’s like a professional MySpace for models, photographers, make-up artists, designers, etc. The stuff on the site varies from real high-end fashion modeling to some incredible artsy photography...
Then in between the mayhem there are, of course, the amateurs. The stuff that makes you go huh???
Work it out! Get it!You’re a tiger!
Oh yeah, you’re an animal!
I don’t know, but for some reason I didn’t want to see that…
That’s it, send that poor message out to all the little girls in America.
I know, I know. I either need Jesus or a new hobby...
Monday, April 7, 2008
Hope everyone is having a lovely Monday filled with rainbows, gumdrops, lollipops, blowjobs and a little tongue action. I just wanted to get a few random things off my chest and into cyberspace. For the most part it looks like I won’t be getting laid for a while and I still can’t find my panties, so nothing new really...
THE JOB- A guy spit on my lip when he was talking to me at work the other night. I mean you know how sometimes you accidentally spit when you talk? Well his landed on my lip! I think I’m dying. No seriously, it was gross.
THE PYSCHE - I’ve been having really bad mood swings and I think I might be a little crazy. I told my friend, “Maybe I should get some medication.” She replied, “If you need it, so does everyone else.” *Whew* I thought it was just me.
THE PENIS- Well I promised an update on the new booty. Not good I tell you. Not good at all. I got a call after the whole Playboy mansion weekend. That was nice. How considerate. When he got back he said that he wanted to spend some more time with me, hangout and stuff. So we set up for another date.
He was supposed to call me when he got done helping his dad move. When he hadn’t called I called him and there was no answer, so I assumed he wasn’t done yet. Well, he sure didn’t call AT ALL. The next day I called him and playfully said, “you stood me up!” He was like, “what are you talking about, on my moms (yes, he put it on his mama) I called you like five times.”
Five times??? PLEASE. If you called me five times and my phone was on, at least two of the five calls would have went through, right?
“Well how come you didn’t just leave a me voicemail then,” I asked.
“Girl, you know I don’t leave voicemails,” he replied.
Really, well you sure did leave them before. Ugh. Anyway, long story short, communication sort of fell off after that. I can say that I am disappointed, because I thought I saw potential in him, but I guess I was wrong. The penis f*cked me again and still no orgasm.
THE FAM- My grandpa is a G. After my grandma passed, he has been doing some serious traveling. Coming up this month is his 79th birthday and do you know where he is??? Ecuador and the Galapagos, traveling down the Amazon and sleeping in huts. Handle that grandpa. Handle that.
My mom is coming into town on Wednesday to take me out to dinner. I’ll keep you posted, because I’m sure she wants to talk about my health insurance and uterus…
Friday, April 4, 2008
Ok I know that I look like I could pass for about eighteen or nineteen. I get carded at dive bars and on a good day I could be celebrating my 21st birthday over and over again. I look young for my age. I do. Not that I’m old or anything, I’ve got some years left before I’m back in diapers, but I do have a “babyface”.
And I’ll admit that I am also soft spoken. Yes, believe it or not I have this soft sexy voice that makes men gravel at my feet with diamonds. And caviar. And sometimes they stay down there and suck on my toes.
Unfortunately, my sexy DJ voice only works for the guys and the rest of the time people are like, “what did you say!?” or “huh, I can’t hear you!” So with my soft voice and post puberty vibe, sprinkled with a little bit of nice, people tend to treat me a certain way in the restaurant business. It’s ok, for the most part this comes along with the job. I’m used to people assuming I’m twelve.
So anyway, a friend of mine hooked me up with a job at this nice French restaurant. So far I like it, everyone is cool and it’s decent money. My boss is a cool guy. He’s about business, but he knows how to take a joke. Now don’t get me wrong I like the guy, but last night I sure did have to bite my tongue when I asked him for something and he said, “I’ll be there in a minute, kid.”
KID? Did this fool just call me kid? You know I’ll take honey, baby cakes, even sugar lips, before I let anyone call me kid. I hate it when older people call me kid. I get it, I look like I just got my drivers license, but this isn’t the 1920s. I mean, give me some credit, I do have boobs. Yes, they’re in there, somewhere, f*cker.
* sigh * Well at least I have a job…
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I’m sorry ya’ll, I meant to post last night, but my couch ate me. I woke up with the longest string of drool hanging from my mouth and an imprint from the remote control on my forehead. I guess that’s what happens after eating a box of jumbo candy, some popcorn, pizza and washing it down with soda. (My diet starts next week, so don’t trip, I’m good).
Speaking of good, I sure did get my mom good yesterday. She was the only one I knew who would fall for all that April Fools mess.
I was lying on the couch when my roommate came home and tried to tell me my car was messed up.
“Girl, go outside and look at your car, it’s bad,” she said. “No I’m serious girl. Go look at your car!”
It’s not that I didn’t believe her, but my butt was too lazy to get up off the couch to see what had happened to it.
“Damn,” she said. “You’re too hard to fool.”
“Oh! Now I get it, you were trying to trick me,” I said.
I had forgotten all about April Fools day.
“Hmmm”, I said. “I know who we can get, my mom.”
What should I tell her? I’m pregnant? No. I got a tattoo? No. (I really did get one recently that she doesn’t know about yet). I don’t want to give her a heart attack. I know, I’ll tell her that I ran away to Vegas and got married. No, I tell her that all the time, she wouldn’t believe me.
So I called and told her that I spent all my rent money on my hair. Do you know that she believed me!? Dying, because she was really about to Western Union me some money.
Damn, now I feel bad.