I was just going to order this new bra on Playtex.com, which I was going to post a picture of, in all it's cuteness, but I don't want creepy people imagining me in my underwear.
Anyway, it was nice and all that, I was gonna make it mine and be all sparky in my new unmentionables....until I saw this:
What the hell is with those "N"'s, thought I...well those, my friends, are half sizes. I'm not happy about this...and how in the hell did I miss this memo?! Did you people know about these elusive half sizes? Victoria's Secret doesn't have half-sizes...Fredericks of Hollywood...nope, no half-sizes. What the fuck is this shit?! If I have to replace all of my underwear collection to fit into some new size, dreamed up by some dick-on-a-stick at Playtex...Mark my words...people will suffer. I will go USPS postal with a spork and a Louisville Slugger.
We're back! Yay us! All three of us at Bella took a long, well deserved break for the holidays, and are now back up and running. I couldn't be more ready...I've missed designing and all my clients so much. It feels good. We've got a new look and a new attitude. Speaking of New Attitude, does anyone else hate that Patti Labelle song as much as I do?
Obviously, you've noticed that I'm at Blogger now (duh)...I started out here years ago, and after having been with Ladybuggin.com for a couple years, I just decided I wanted to get back to my roots, so to speak. Which is why Zed was reincarnated. I did have another motive though...I love to design for Blogger. I always have the most fun with those designs, and figured I might as well enjoy designing my own blog as much as I do for all my Blogger clients. That being said, I'm going to offer a sale on all Blogger designs through the month of February. If you mention this post in your email to me, regarding a Blogger redesign (and probably even if you don't), I'll give you $20 off the total cost of your new design. If you're interested in this deal, don't wait too long, I've got four available spaces for the month, and they will go fast!
I Could SO Kick Jodie Fosters' ASS...just not right now.
I am so damn tired right now, I'm about to cry. I couldn't sleep at all last night, so it's been over 24 hours without sleep...I'm starting to count the hours until my girls go to bed and I can take a nap before I have to go pick up the man from work at 12:30 this morning. Needless to say, it's taken all I have to stay awake today...I decided to look into some F.B.I stuff. Yup, makes sense right? But, I want to join the F.B.I. Silly, probably. But that's my dream job. So, out of curiosity, I'm decided to try to find a list of things that they require for you to join/apply/sell your soul....ok, so here's what I can find:
You've gotta be at least 23 years old and not older than 37. Got that one!
You've gotta hold a degree in law enforcement (I've started this one years ago...and someday I'll finish), computer science a foreign language or accounting. To which I say MEH?! Accounting?!
You've gotta have vision of no less than 20/200, perfect hearing, and weigh between 122-169 lbs (for my height)...check, check and check. Then there are the medical histories, psychiatric histories, credit histories, physical exams, medical exams, oral exams, the background investigation that ate Cleaveland....
Be able to speak (fluently mind you), Arabic, Farsi, Pashtu, Urdu, Chinese (all dialects), Japanese, Korean, Russian, Spanish, and Vietnamese....pick one.
You must have two to three years of law enforcement experience prior to applying, and preferrably a graduate degree in law...then if they decide you don't smell funky, they'll send you to Quantico for 17 weeks to be yelled at by a drill instructor who I'm sure looks NOTHING like Louis Gossett Jr. in An Officer And A Gentleman....
Mmmmmm....Louis Gossett Jr.....
Maybe I should just stick to wishfull thinking and watching Court TV. I'm way to easily distracted to handle all that pressure.
I saw this on S@m's blog and loved it so hard I decided to do a mini version. So Ms. S@m did it for one of the Thursday Thirteen deal's which I don't have nearly enough of an attention span to commit to, but I figured I could roll out five...at a time. I'll do a couple of these...or a few, whatever. So here ya go, my top five favorite scenes from Quentin Tarantino movies (in no order):
1. The Man From Hollywood scene from Four Rooms.
2. The Brad Pitt "Oh" scene from True Romance. I couldn't find a better clip so you get the short one, deal. Funniest scene Pitt's ever been in.
3. The Stuck In The Middle With You scene in Reservoir Dogs.
4. O-Ren Ishii's meeting with the council in Kill Bill Vol 1. If you don't like violence, the F bomb, or generally icky things...just don't watch.
5. The end of the Gimp scene and the Bonnie Situation from Pulp Fiction. By far one of the most brilliant scenes ever written. If you haven't seen the movie you may not "get" the humor in this one (and why the hell haven't you seen this?), if you just don't appreciate Q's films, or again, generally don't like violence, multiple uses of the word "fuck" or have a weak stomach...don't watch this (and don't say I didn't warn you)...and if you do have a problem with all those things, chances are this isn't the blog for you to begin with, cuz as we all know I put the ass in class.
So there ya go...my top five Q moments. And being that it's 3 am and I can't sleep, I'm going to watch the Grindhouse trailer again and check the countdown til the film comes out.
So, um, just now, as I was doing the dishes, I heard an ice cream truck go by. Playing the bad calliope music and all. It brought back a ton of good memories...the ones of me begging my parents for quarters so I could go catch the ice cream man, and get the overpriced goodies that you couldn't get anywhere else. The thrill of eating your prize under a shady tree while the sun beat down on you....
Which suddenly snapped me back into reality and made me realize that it's currently 35 degrees with pea soup fog and rain, all damn day. This is January, not summer...so uh, what the hell, dude? I've always wondered about the ice cream men in this area, and now I'm sure of it. They are selling crack.
I just saw a commercial for the Disneyland vacations and they showed a small clip of the It's a Small World ride. Whose bright idea was "It's A Small World"? Well, obviously it was Mr. Disney...but who thought it would be good, wholesome, family entertainment? That shit is scary. I haven't been in years, but dude, that crapola still gives me nightmares. I've always had my suspicions that Mr. Disney was tokin' on the ol' hooka, and those satanic midgets are all the proof I'll ever need.
it's a world of laughter, a world of tears its a world of hopes, its a world of fear theres so much that we share that its time we're aware its a small world after all
Oh. My. God. That's not cute, or funny...it scares the bujeesus out of me. They emphasize the "bad" words inthe song...It's a world of laughter, a world of FEEEEEEAAAAARRRRRR! I can't be the only one who has noticed that...those little rodents make me pee a little. All of them, all happy go lucky...and soul sucking. I swear. They leer down at you while you are in this facade of cheeryness, thinking nothing in the world could ever go wrong...HAH! I'm sure they were made from the souls of serial killers, like in Childs Play. They look like at any moment they are going to jump off their little rocks and rainbows and pull your ass out of the ride, and suck the living right out of you, then while the rest of the people on the ride are screaming and running around, arms all akimbo, they will hack you into a million pieces and and bury you under the teacup ride.
HA HA HA. Very funny, Disney.
I feel dirty...I need to go take a Crying Game shower now.
You know what seriously makes me want to cuss? Well, besides air? It's when people have a blatant disregard for the written word. I understand typo's. Hell, I'm the typo queen and if I didn't already type 80 words a minute, with error corrections, I probably wouldn't bother correcting all my shit either. And I'm sure I still miss an error here and there. But it's people that know their knowledge of the english language is less than stellar, to say the least, and they just don't give a shit. I know, english isn't everybodies first language....especially in this country. Hell it could be your third, fourth or tenth language, but with all the emailing and other forms of communication that require you to at least fake a grasp of the written word, I just don't undertand why someone would choose to let themselves come off as a flaming moron.
There are a couple of things off the top of my head that I just don't get. It's like when you run into somebody that you know damn well is just a dumbass. Nothing physical or mental that might inhibit their learning...they are just a mental midget. You know this...what I always wonder is if THEY realize they are a moron? Same thing with the written word, and most importantly, spelling. Dude. There are a million and two dictionaries on line, hell, you can BUY a dictionary for less than a buck...why in the name of shit would you want to keep spelling like a third grader? That's just plain laziness. I always assume that reading and writting is one skill...if you can read you should be able to write and vice versa...is there some kind of a a misfiring neuron that won't allow your brain to relay messages to your fingers?
Also, why....ohhhhhh why, don't you try to at least improve on your spelling if you know it sucks. If I did something all the time that I knew made me look like a bafoon, I'd sure as hell be trying to fix it. I'm not saying I could, but if I knew that spelling was a downfall of mine, shit, I'd sit my ass on a dictionary and hope I got better through osmosis. That's just how I roll...I don't like to look stupid. Silly, huh? And it's not only that, it's the use of the language. Learn the difference between too, to and two...for four fore, there their they're...etc etc. Absolutely, I'm sure the language is a pain in the arse to learn for the first time, but we all did it...I didn't come out of the womb ranting on a blog. I learned it just like everybody else. And! What would possess you, if you do any of those things, to go spouting off about "politiks" or "aborshon". Mmmmk. Try an edukashun on for size, dildo.
With all that in mind...what kind of fuckstick would post this on someone elses blog:
"[sic] I always thout that the girl had more talant and more longevity than Brittney, and as much as i like Xtina, I'm a Brittney girl. I even drink and show my snatch once in awhile like the frigging hoe."
Yeah, mmmmk. I'm not even gonna touch on the actual content in that, because that's just fucking stupidity but the Thout and talant...nice. You spell Brittney Skankyho's name with one T (this is just my own anal retentive nature to want to spell names correctly), I is always capitalized, we learn that in second grade...and a hoe is a garden tool, nimrod. I believe you, my special little friend, are a Ho.
See, it's shit like that. If you want to be a moron, don't put it in writting. Please, don't make the rest of us suffer along with you. I think there's an old quote about it being better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt...this should be amended to include the written word.
<> And since I'm on the topic of spelling...my hubs and I are Star Trek: TNG freaks. We obsess and watch it and make happy little porny sounds when we hear the theme song...don't judge. So, if you watch it you know how loathed the character of Wesley Crusher is...played by the wonderboy Wil Wheaton. Anywho, so a couple months ago, I was looking through his blog, which is also very hated, and I went to his flickr page...needless to say, the man and I no longer say "moron"....it's now:
Moran. Priceless...some people have told me that this is some kind of new internet speak started on Fark. To that I call bullshit. It makes him look like as big of a dumbass as I like to think he is. The Borg should have assimilated his dipshit ass when they had the chance. < /geek >
And now that I've spent twenty minutes obsessing over my own grammar in this damn post, I'm hitting the publish button and going to eat an Otter Pop...Louie Lou Raspberry if you must know. Oh, and just so we're up to date with the list...
Things I Hate (in convenient bullety list format):
Anyone named Todd
People who leave the cupboards open
Reality shows that make me throw up in my mouth.
People that can't spell or don't not write no good and make me want to punch them in the throat.
I tried to find this the day we had our huge snow storm last week, and the guy who took it didn't have it up...I figured it was just a matter of time. This was shot not far from my house. Yeah, we all felt real safe that day....and she wonders why the entire city shuts down when we get a tiny bit of snow. Can you imagine what this place would look like if we kept things open? Yeesh...
I had the movie Harold & Kumar Go To Whitecastle on my Netflix list for forever and I finally decided I was in the mood for a stupid comedy, and I had already gone through my own collection (all the Kevin Smith flicks, The Scary Movie flicks...I was even desperate enough to sit through American Pie with the hubby, which I hate)...Needless to say, I was getting desperate for something that would make me laugh. I moved it up on my list...fine good, it'll at least make me laugh at how bad it is.
I watched it twice yesterday alone. Hands down the funniest movie I've seen in a loooooooong time. Since Clerks 2 came out. I'm usually not a fan of Stoner comedy, the last one of those I liked was The Stoned Age, and nobody has ever even heard of that movie. I hated Dude, Where's My Car....I hated Dazed & Confused...not really my cup o' tea.
The plot is basically this, Harold is this tightass investment banker, Kumar is this rebellious almost pre-med student...they both like to partake of the Wacky Tobaccy....so they light up, and see this commercial for White Castle, decide they must have it, and hillarity ensues...yadda yadda yadda. Pretty simple, right? Funny as hell.
Watch it...watch it twice. You'll thank me.
The cameo by Neil Patrick Harris...the Wilson Phillips Sing along....The dream sequence with the huge bag of Mary Jane...and from here on out I'm working "I Was Trippin Balls" into everyday conversation....oh my god people.
What the hell is "hand tossed" salad? Yanno, like on that menu right thar?...Hand Tossed Salads. What the hell does that mean? It's kind of gross if you think about it. Some greasy cook in the back room throwing lettuce and cucumbers and 'shrooms around all willy nilly. I didn't realize that this was something special. Like a special skill. Is there a special Hand Tossing class in culinary school? Do you need a specialized degree for this? It would seem like the pizza people need training to do that spinny hand tossing the dough thing. Why wouldn't that carry over to salad? Maybe there are a whole group of people who hold a degree in "Salad Tossing".
Ok, that was just funny on so many levels. Salad Tossing degree.
Let me know in the comments if you're doing this too, so I can go read it...it'll give me something to do while I'm whining and moaning about how much my mouth hurts, and having to suffer all by myself because the man is still at work and my kids are in bed because it's midnight, so there is nobody here to listen to my whining and moaning.
I truly am pathetic.
Name one song you hate to admit you like. George Michael "Outside"
Name two songs that always make you emotional. CCR, "Someday Never Comes" Frank Sinatra, "All The Way"
Name three songs that turn you on. Nine Inch Nails, "Closer" (shut. up) Whitesnake, "Here I Go Again" (shut. up. again) Bob Seger, "Night Moves"
Name four songs that always make you feel good. Boston, "Foreplay/Longtime" The Cars, "Just What I Needed" Cheap Trick, "I Want You To Want Me" ELO, "Don't Bring Me Down"
Name five songs you couldn't ever do without. Tom Petty, "American Girl" Sloan, "Don't Believe A Word" The Beatles "Drive My Car" Nirvana "Lounge Act" Journey, "Don't Stop Believin"
Name six songs that changed your life. Metallica, "The Four Horseman" Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" Tori Amos "Silent All These Years" The Who, "Baba O'Reilly" Aretha Franklin, "I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You" The Doors, "Whiskey Bar"
Just one more pet peeve to add to my ever growing list of things I hate. Reality shows that make people eat gross shit. Like Fear Factor, Survivor...any of those pieces of tripe. I hate watching people eat gross shit. It makes me throw up a little in my mouth. And I don't like throwing up in my mouth. I'm so over watching people gag on national television. When it was new, it was kind of funny...oh look! They have to eat bugs....Heeeheeee she just threw up on national TV! Now? Not s'much.
I would like those shows if it weren't for that one teeny little thing. And don't say I could just change the channel, because it doesn't matter what time of day it is, if I'm flipping through the channels, I will inevitably hit one of these shows, and it's always during the "Make them eat vile crap" stunt. It's murphy's law, or something.
You'd think, after 7000 seasons of these shows, the producer's would get some kind of new idea floating around in their pretty little heads. Why not make the people juggle flaming midgets? Or, better yet, you could have flaming midgets juggle the contestants. I don't care. Just stop making them eat gross shit that makes them gag. If I have to see one more person eat a live bug, or cow intestines full of bovine stomache fondue, or a cracker covered in Uncle Jake's Lucky sauce...I'm gonna have to do something serious. Which equals nothing. But I'm definitely bitching about it again.
For those of you taking notes, list is now as follows:
"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become reality. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."
Martin Luther King Jr. Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech December 10, 1964
Yes it is. You can't convince me otherwise. I have evidence to back me up.
1. Tight spandex pants. No woman loving man would be caught dead in spandex.
2. Phrases like Tight End. Wide Receiver. Back End in Motion. Gay...gay and GAY.
3. Announcers who say things like "He really put the moooooves on that guy!"
4. When they make a touchdown...they do a little dance. Flaming. Gay.
5. Before they do their little happy dance....they prancy prance their way into the endzone on their tip toes. Yes, they do.
6. And while we're talking about it. They "rush their ball into the endzone". In other words they gay their gay right into the big ol' gayzone.
7. Guys are actually more interested in the game than the cheerleaders.
8. The guy who invented Football...his name is Nancy McFancypants. Really. Look it up.
9. The Packers. 'Nuff said.
Football is the gayest sport to ever gay the gay. And it makes no sense. And it takes eight years to play one game. And it smells funny. And if I have to sit through one more god damn minute of inflated turd that is football, I swear to cheese, I will go on a Grand Theft Auto type rampage..
Sidenote: I love the gay. Just wanted to put that out there, cuz now I'm paranoid that people are gonna think I'm some big anti-gay freak, so don't send me comments or blast off emails telling me how I'm going to hell for using the word "gay" as an adjective to describe fuckball. I already have my room reserved for that thing I did in high school with condoms, shaving cream and the prom queen.
Ok, here ya go...answer me this, what is she laughing at? And this is potentially not safe for children or work related stuff...
A: She just heard a really funny joke involving monkeys and beer. B: She was just informed of her parents stint in Sing Sing. C: She just had an encounter with the Tightest Jeans On The Earth.
The answer is C....
What the fuck is he thinking? It looks like he shoved his pants full of dynamite...and not in the cool Jimmy Walker DY-NO-MIIIIIIIIIIITE kind of way. Someone should take him out of his misery...that can't be comfortable. On the bright side, if he wears jeans this tight on a regular basis, he won't have the opportunity to reproduce. Which really saves us all in the end.
Now that I look at it a little closer, it looks like he's holding a Corona in his hand. Perhaps he got dressed in a drunk stupor and put on clothes that he was saving for after the sex change? Maybe he's suffering as much as we are? Maybe he realizes that he doesn't have the Brad Pitt looks, so he needs to advertise his other "attributes"? What's in the bag? His pride?
There's something that I totally don't understand. An excess of pride. Some people are so full of pride, that they choke on it. You know someone like this I'm sure. They can't EVER admit they made a mistake for fear that they might show a weakness, or just plain be wrong. They just can't say they are sorry...
Saying "I'm Sorry" seems like such a small thing to me. If I fuck up, I'll say I'm sorry...I may not like it, and it might sting like hell, but shit, if I'm wrong and I'm sorry, I'll tell you, and it means something if I do say it, because I don't let that one flow freely from my mouth, it's kind of like "I Love You". I don't go throwing around "I Love You"'s to just anyone and I wouldn't throw out hollow "I'm Sorry"s. I mean every one I've ever said to somebody.
What really eats at me is when somebody KNOWS goddamn well they are wrong and because of their pride, they can't or won't appologize for whatever they did. They'd much rather throw out excuses...."I'm not perfect", or "It wasn't my fault", or "Nobody said you should listen to me"...empty bullshit. Means nothing, but that the person spewing it is weak, and can't admit to being wrong.
If you do something wrong, and have to eat some crow because of it, grab a fork, bitch. Eat it, say what needs to be said so we can both move on. Don't throw excuses at me, and make me out to be some kind of idiot, because you did something wrong. You weren't violated so don't paint yourself the victim, sweetie.
Ok, I'm done...and I feel so much better getting that out, I think saying it in person may get me in a situation that would involve me punching someone in the neck...and I just had my nails done.
I was searching through various crap in my closet last night, when I was in one of my bouts of insomnia...cuz the hubs really loves it when I dig around loudly in shit with all the lights on, at 4 am. Anyway, I found a ton of baby pictures I thought I had lost...of my girls, and myself as a kid. HAH! Always, always good for a laugh. Those old school pictures we had to take in the 80's?! LAWD! Now that's some comedy...anyway, cuz I don't have anything better to post today, I figured I'd share. It's a long post, so if you don't feel like pointing and laughing at my childhood, feel free to move along....
My oldest (who just turned 12) was about 3 in this picture, we took it at the zoo...she used to be so sweet and innocent. Those were the days.
This was taken after she decided to sneak into mommy's makeup...I think all of us with daughters have a picture similar to this one. She was about 3 in this one too.
This is my youngest (she'll be 9 at the end of this month) as Blue for Halloween...she was about 2ish.
My youngest again at her first birthday...the child seriously had the biggest head ever! She looked like E.T. for the first year of her life.
This is where the me section starts. Feel free to cheer...I was probably about 3 in this picture...probably taken after one of a million fishing trips with my dad.
This is me and my friend Layci. I think we had gone over to my grandparents house sometime during the summer. I'm hoping she doesn't find her way to this page, she'd shoot me for posting this.
My mom and dad and I...probably taken sometime in 1979. Much happier times. My only question is when in the hell did my dad ever smoke a pipe? Who the hell did he think he was? Hefner?
My mom and I...obviously Xmas, probably 1979.
I look so very cheerful here. I think it's the knee socks my mother had on me. Ugh.
I love this one...I was probably about 3 here. I've never seen this dog before in my life...probably one of the MANY dogs who just happened to "follow" me home.
Nice stripes...and again with the socks. I was probably 4 or 5ish.
This one cracks me up, sorry, it's not the clearest pic...I was a full fledged brooding teenager...probably 15ish. I see my daughter so much already in this picture. Help me.
This one I'm putting in cuz it makes me smile...my mother on her wedding day to my dad...1975 I think.
Hey! Guess what I just did? Hah. You're gonna laugh...really. Ok, so I take some medication, that has some side effects. I know! Get out, right?! Me on meds. Yeah, so anyway, one of them has a tendency to make me a bit spacey. Usually I take it at night, so I get all loopy in my sleep and not when I'm like, taking care of my kids, or cooking, or gutting fish or something. So anyway, I decided to take them now, because they make me very sleepy, and I have plans for tonight...doing...things. Things that involve chocolate syrup and lots of whip cream. None of your business.
Anyway, so I had to make a phone call to my friend. And her live in/manfriend/boy toy/fuckstick answered the phone. Totally uneventfull up until this point, right? Right...So, when he answered I said..."Hellooooo is uhhhhh, ummmmm...errrrrr?" and hung up. I could not, for the life of me remember her name. I have known her for years. It's Beth by the way, I know that....of course. Heh. But at the time, I had nothin. Mind totally a blank. Now, I've gotta call her back and explain to her throbbing man love that the reason I hung up on him was because I couldn't remember one of my closest friends names.
Nice one, Mia.
And for the sicko's out there, I'm planning on eating lots of ice cream and cuddling up with House MD. Yeesh.
Can someone please get me this? Yanno, someone who loves and adores me? There have to be a few million of you out there. No really...
I have some tools now, which are very ugly, if I do say so myself. Nothing couture about my current driver, and hammer. But these! OHHHHHH THESE!!! Imagine how trendy I would look with my head under the sink, and one of these babies in my hand. Orrrrr if I had to say, change a lightbulb with a screwy doo-job holding the light fixture on, I could ask someone to hand me one of these very fashionable screw drivers! And that's not even counting all the inuendo dropping I could do with the man if I owned a furry pink screwdriver. Ohhhh I would be the envy. It's about time someone decided to market some tool-y shit to chicks.
Let's just start the count now...how many times will I get to hear that in the next year? I predict 19,749,629. Place yer bets.
Today is the anniversary of me and the man. Seven years today. We've been together 11, and married seven of those....and if you look at my age over thar, under my most beeeeeeeutimous picture, you do the math. He's been my main squeeze for pretty much all of my adult life...I say "pretty much" because when you have a child at 16, your adult life tends to start a bit sooner. Regardless, he's been there through thick and thin, better or waaaaaaaaay worser, good or bad...shit like that. I love him more than cheese. And he loves me back. I'm still not so sure what that says about him, but whatever...
Here's what I promise him in the coming year:
1. I promise not to point and laugh at you when you talk in Star Trek speak, refer to yourself as Locutus or tell me you want to run a "Level Two Diagnostic on my Jefferies Tube"
2. I promise to fold your socks more. I know, I know...it's not my strong suite...but seriously, dude. I don't even wear socks, so it's just like an additional chore I hafta do. I don't get nuthin out of it (selfish, yes). But because you get all huffy when you gotta go digging through the sock *box* for work socks...I will fold them for you. And I'll even make sure they match.
3. I promise not to shake the living shit out of you when your sleeping, and wake you up just to tell you that your snoring is causing this girl on the fray to want to smother you with your cat....more than once twice a week.
4. I promise to be more open to Jazz. I'll stop calling it "Doing it" Music, and maybe learn to appreciate someone who isn't Kenny G. But I can't promise that I'll stop making that Bow-Chica-Bow-Ow sound everytime the radio plays something by Spyro Gyra. Cuz dude. That is porn music personified.
5. I promise not to have a headache, be too tired, or be "blogging", more than once twice a week.
6. I promise I won't call your coffee Frou Frou anymore. If you want to drink Vanilla Flowers, Grammy's Pumpkin Pie Yummyness, or Mocha Berry Surprise coffee...I won't make fun of you by calling you Nancy and instructing you on the proper way to hold your coffee cup. Pinky out, of course.
7. I promise to be more accepting of the fact that you take a billion years in the bathroom. I know, I've said this before, but I'm really going to try to be more patient with you. No more spanking the monkey jokes...no more quips about your needing your primping time...none of it. I'll be good. Really.
8. I promise not to call you chicken legs anymore. Ok, this one is gonna be harder for me, because really, dude...you have some skinny ol' chicken legs. And I really don't think this one even bothers you all that much...but since I'm working on that whole being nicer to my husband thing, I figured I'd throw this one in the hat too.
9. This one is a give and take...I promise that I will get better about the dishes and the laundry....if you'll promise to stop leaving your tennis shoes with your socks tucked neatly in each one, so it looks like somebody got vaporized out of those puppies. Oh, and if you'll fill up the tank on my car more than once a year.
10. Last but not least...I promise you me. Without all the crap hanging in my head from the last couple of years. This year you get the "old" me. Hang on to your seats, ladies and germs.
Happy Seventh Anniversary, Locutus. Much love on ya.
Presently? There are three people who I would really like to beat about the head with a 1978 Buick. Until I see their brains squish out their ears and they are twice deader than dead.
But since I can't do that, because it's all against the law and stuff...Pssssht...I'm watching old episodes of Flavor of Love. How can you stay mad watching Flava? The dude is funny. He took three girls out to KFC, and they all thought it was gonna be this big fancy dinner, so they got all hoochified, and pulled up in the limo to KFC...and then the limo got stuck in the drive through and they lost their Blackberry...
Wait. That was So Notorious. Wrong reality.
But still, dude. KFC. I love that guy.
Oh, and Tori Spelling looks like one of my bloated guppies while pregnant.
I'm just sayin.
So, does anyone have 1978 Buick they can loan me? I promise to wash all the brain goo off before I return it.
Guess what I hate? I mean besides, Rachel Ray, Enya, birds, moths and anyone named Todd? Guess...I'll wait.
Ok, I'll tell ya, I hate it when I walk into my kitchen and I see that a certain person (we'll call him my husband just for shits and giggles) did this:
Why people? If you have the energy to open the damn door...close the piece of monkey shit again! If you just simply can not bring yourself to close it once you've retreived your glass/plate/cookies/dildo, whatever it may be...than please, for the love of all that is good and right in my universe, call me over. Just give a little whistle, like the seven dwarfs....I'll come runnin'. I'll close that bitch right up for ya.
Then I'll promptly kick you squarely in the ass for making me put my 90210 dvd's on pause, just when Dylan and Brenda are about to do the horizontal hokey pokey for the first time, to close A MOTHERFUCKING CABINET FOR YOU!