My weekend felt long but was super short in reality. I really didn’t get much done except one huge task. On the other hand, I did eat my way through about 1/4 of my weight in shellfish, and I had some lovely bread along the way.
Someday, I’ll go too far, and the shellfish allergy will overtake me. You heard it in here that all my jewelry goes to my mom for distribution, and the rest of you bitches can fight it out for my clothes, shoes, accessories and purses! The scarves belong in whole to Cherry.
So, yes, I spent half the day Saturday and ALL DAY Sunday washing blankets. The dogs’ blankets. Lazy motherfuckers just sat there and watched me do it, too. P.S. to Rainbow: You better stop pissing on stuff or the diapers are coming back and I AM SO SERIOUS ABOUT THAT SHIT!
Some vows are stronger than others. To me, these are the vows of girlfriends. Those transcend any situation in life and they live on, tying us together and never letting us forget we are one in the night, that we aren’t really ever far away from one another. I go on quality, not quantity. There are about four or five true good girlfriends I can really count on, and I feel better each day knowing that they are there for me, no matter what. Perhaps you have more (good for YOU!), but I think four or five is about all I’ll ever need in my lifetime. I hope those bitches know they can count on me, too, til the end of my days. I love you all.
My current ridiculous obsessions: Window shopping for sweaters and “removing” the scab in my left nostril that won’t seem to heal (probably because I keep removing the scab, duh – idiot!). Why are these obsessions ridiculous? (1) It gets cold here in Dallas about three days out of the year so what is up with all these sweaters? and (b) even though I don’t want to look like I have a bloody booger hanging out of my nose, if it is ever going to fully heal, I need to leave that fucker alone.
My mom and dad finally consented to take a vacation with me and the non-BF. This makes me as happy as a clam who didn’t get picked for dodgeball by moving an inch away from the digger’s foot. My mom seems excited. My dad? I keep checking for a pulse. Oh well, I’m sure he will get more enthusiastic as the date draws nearer.
In some cultures, it is considered rude not to burp after a good meal. I wish American culture would pick up on this shit – it’s a grand idea. It would save me from saying “Excuse me!” about 20 times a day. (I don’t eat 20 times a day, but I sure as hell burp about seven or eight times after each meal.)
My new website should be ready soon. It’s already ready, if you must know the truth, just a little tweaking needs to be done. It’s pink, by the way. (Reader: But of course it is!)
I’d like feedback if you would, when I finally get it to go live.
What is it with me and
skinny slender no-fat-all-muscle, dark-haired singers? Between Scott Weiland (a long-time favorite), Nick Hexum (another long-timer) and Adam Levine (just recently developed the hots for him), I guess I have a “type.” And yes, this seems to be it. Or this.
I ordered a sweater online and it arrived today, so I tried it on and asked the Office Mate if it was too small on me. The look on her face told me, yeah, maybe. So I told her, “Be honest…” She said it bunched up on my back and I’m like, “Well, that’s better than it being stretched out like this!” and I pulled it really tight around my waist. She just laughed. Later she told me that she just didn’t like the pattern. Me: Well, hell, I don’t care what you think about the pattern – because I like it – but how the hell does it fit? Apparently, it fits fine, so it’s not going back.
She got a kick out of “I don’t care what you think about the pattern.” (Really?? In the two years that she’s known me, when have I ever given a shit if someone liked my outfit, as long as I didn’t look FAT in it?) I told her nothing needs to match anymore, so get over the fact that my pants totally clashed with the sweater. It’s not as though I’ll be pairing the two together anytime in the near future, anyway. But when I do, it will look fabulous!
Wormy Kitty is evil. I still believe that she is plotting to smother me with her paws during the night. She likes to bite, too. I look like I stumbled into a briar patch!
I asked the non-BF how long this biting “stage” would last. Him: Oh. about two years. Me: (rolls eyes and sighs) Is that why you wanted me to keep the kitty?
P.S. Wormy Kitty sure as hell eats a lot. She shits more than any animal I’ve ever seen, next to Mr. Swirly.
Several days ago, I made
cell mutation juice a gin & diet tonic with a heavy splash of cranberry juice cocktail. I took one sip and then we had to go somewhere, and rather than waste totally decent alcohol, I scooped out the ice cubes and stuck the glass in my freezer. Totally forgot about it until yesterday and then I open the door to a nice surprise – wheeeee! it was like an adult snowcone!!! So tonight I’m trying a G&DT with some Fanta Grape soda. It’s pretty white trash sounding but I’m hoping it will be yummy enough that I’ll be able to serve it at parties without ridicule. (The Pickletinis were a huge hit, even though I was surrounded by doubters before the first sip!) It won’t be ready until tomorrow night, though.
The way I look at it, this could go one of two ways: Either I discover a new way to savor a cold drink in this hot Texas summer, or else it’s a Tanqueray and Vomit. I’ll keep you posted.