i do not appreciate the internets spreading the rumor that i am fat and unattractive! i want a settlement!
and yes, more pills.
(i have to go get a lawyer. *weep*)
i am a writer, crafter, and professional burlesque dancer. i like pineapples. i have two jewish cats. also i smell like cookies and i will use this to my advantage when i take over the world.
points of business before actual bloggerie:
1. gwen stefani is pregnant. i know she is excited, as she has been singing about it for the last 3 albums. i am excited because she might actually go inside for a while and put some clothes on. i have what could amount to a whole post to say about her, but really, it's mostly big words and psychological crap. and who needs that?
2. if you have not yet submitted a gname for the gnome, or if you have further brilliance (or stupidity) to share, please either scroll down or go here and do so.
"the time has come," the walrus said,
"to talk of many things:
of shoes- and ships- and sealing wax-
of cabbages- and kings—
and why the sea is boiling hot-
and whether pigs have wings."
me: hi [petname redacted because i desire to return home this evening]. i love you. how are you feeling?
Boy: fine... what do you want?
me: a cat? can i have a cat?
me: he's really really cute and sweet and-
3: number of brides seen. also number of times Boy pulled me suddenly in an opposite direction.
we were somewhere around barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. i remember saying something like "i feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." and suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car...
Squiggle: can you do me a favor and go show this scarf to miss kendra?
Squiggle: you know. miss kendra. you know.
student: you mean greased lightning?
student: you know, because she dresses like she's from the fifties, like in that movie grease. so greased lightning.
me: will i still ring your bell when i'm sixty-eight?
Boy: eeeeewww! no! you'll be old! sixty-eight is old!
me: you'll be old too! you'll be seventy-four! so does this mean you don't want to have old people sex with me?
Boy: no way! you'll have cracks and crevices and folds and you'll smell! old people smell!