Ok, I’m being a complete copycat and copying Astralfrog’s diary, which I guess is copying someone elses. That’s me, just a big conformist lemming, going with the flow. Actually, I started looking through my sent items and was laughing at my weird verbage and thought I’d share, but I got the notion to do so from Astralfrog. Just a big copy cat, but here goes…. in random order.
Actually, I’m in a bi-amorous relationship with two very understanding men… but neither of them does the dishes.
I did not know the thing about the mustard greens. You may have saved me from uncertain death or discomfort.
Sophia Coppola freaks me out.
Forgive me, I’m a Wisconsinite. We’re not good at acting ‘hip’.
Yes, your email is going to be stenciled on my living room wall. The ‘P.S’ email will be in the dining room. I’m encorporating them into a fresco theme we’ve got going. The bathroom is “ain’t it cool news”. So rest assured that your emails are to be treasured for generations.
I shall definately smack any friends who get out of line today.
I can’t wait for FatGirl undies! That kicks butt (no pun intended).
I got a little tear… right there. I was verklempt for a moment. Then I recovered and wrote this reply.
(Talking about Wap) Folks have been known to hoard the leftovers for years. Virginities have been lost with the leftovers. Crimes have been committed and I was forced to become a witness for the defense. Yada yada yada. Needless to say, it becomes very potent yet still drinkable with age.
Maybe you need to go out for Chinese food and eat it in the bathtub? Or get a manicure? Or turn up the music really loud and drive really fast?
I’ll get back to you next week (barring attacks by locusts).
It’s a darned good thing we don’t eat with our feet, as we’d all be sick all the time.
I thought at first they were telling me I had CELLULITE, which I already knew (and I thought that was rather personal)
I’ve completely given up the herbal life shake thing. Tasted like loose-leaf paper.
Anyway, it’s baby fever here. I know three people who are pregnant, and two who are trying. The girl who moved to Seattle, has moved back to town. She’s also pregnant. ARRRRGGGGHHHH! And then sometimes I think that I would like a little girl, but then the feeling passes. Much like a bowel movement.
I could see you turning this into a prose poem on a larger scale, not necessarily more about DC, but more about the word pictures that you painted. Word pictures…. that’s how I see it, not a plot per say, but more sensual imagery and emoting feelings. On a much lighter note, did I ever send you the pictures of the big plastic chicken?
Having your period sucks and having to use a port-a-piss sucks too, but then to combine those two elements is nearly inhuman. You can bet that a man came up with the outdoor blue plastic johns and felt pretty proud of himself, since it was oh-so-much-more-civilized when compared to using the nearest tree. Of course, if men got their periods, everyone would be given 5 days vacation per month in addition to the 2 weeks per year. And abortions would be doled out at McDonald’s drive through windows.
Imagine the panic: oh my god, I forgot to pack the Q-Tips! Of course, the residents of Washington DC have dirty ears and have never seen a Q-Tip before.
Things I learned in Key West: barracuda don’t bite people; don’t go snorkeling when the ocean is choppy because you’ll hyper-ventillate; dolphins are mystical; I feel pretty unimpressive next to drag queens, since they are better at being women than I am; Aveda’s hair stuff does some wonderful things; five days of eating gourmet foods will make you feel greasy and leave you with lots of zits; drinks like Rum Runners and Conch Coolers taste really good but leave you sick to your stomach the next day; Conch Fritters and Conch Chowder, while being a local delicacy, are gross and conch should not be eaten unless very desperately hungry or possibly on Survivor; don’t make phone calls, even to 1-800 numbers from your hotel room, because they’ll charge you a LOT; fruit is much better closer to the source; just because Martha Stewart eats Uni (raw sea urchin) doesn’t mean that it tastes good; it is possible to find a swimming suit that I feel comfortable in.
Instead I went to get my car washed and thought I’d try one of the automated, sit in your car and wait, gas station kind of deals. I punch my code in, begin to drive in and then it sprays my car for about two seconds, pre-washing, and then stops. Ok, I think, my car is soaking. And soaking. And soaking. Five minutes later, I pull out my cell phone because both of the garage doors (in and out) are closed and I am effectively trapped in the non-working car wash. I called information but I realized that I didn’t know the exact name of the gas station, just that it was a Citgo. They gave me a strange number and I called it and it was for a gas station in Appleton. Uh, no. Tried information again and they couldn’t find any Citgo on the street I thought we were on, but just then I realized that I had my receipt, which would have the name of the gas station on it, which it did plus the phone number, so I thanked the information lady and hung up and called the gas station and said “Hey, let me out of your crappy car wash, you ignorant cock-sucking bastards!” Luckily for them, I had a Diet Coke in my car, or I would have been much more cranky.
For my penance, I will allow you to address me as “Wenchy” the next time we see each other and I in turn will address you as “Master of all that is Excellent” or some other title of honor.
Lancome is the only foundation that I’ve ever found that is my exact shade. I wear Macquicontrole in Clair. I like the French names for colors way better than the English version. I hate going and asking for “Pale as Hell”.
Oh my god, you have all the batteries that you could ever wish for!!!
Esteban’s new monitor is a 21 inch. It’s ginormous (which, by the way, is bigger than enormous). I’m afraid to sit too near it as it may wobble and crash upon me.
It’s kind of like riding on the freeway and then switching to those little cars at the amusement park, you know the kind with the little bell on a string and they go around in a circle.
It snowed here on Saturday. Thought you’d like to know. I apparently HAVE gained the appropriate fat layer.
Our office water tastes like acidic snot.
Balloon fiesta? Explain? I’m imagining a bunch of dozing people wearing balloon hats. I suppose that would be more of a balloon siesta
The ear mold stuff smelled like bubble gum… did I tell you that? It left an oil spill in my head.
Got all my hair cut off on Saturday. The mid hair cut of last month was only an emotional barrier between the extremely long hair and the extremely short hair. Now it’s sort of a “Meg Ryan” but not golden or perky and without Russell Crowe.
I have a stuffed sheep. Her name is Lanolin. She has a bell around her neck. My cat Tilly is sometimes incensed by her arrogance and beats her up. I’ll hear a madly ringing bell and I’ll check it out and Tilly has Lanolin in a death grip. She sees me and then she takes off. Poor Lanolin. She never whines about this abuse.
They make me feel like the funky funk.
Maybe next Sunday we should go there and steal his pants?
Various estrogens which have free range around my body have decided to give me a monstrous zit on the tip of my nose. Zit is really too small of a word. Blimple. It’s a blimple.
If the flavor starts with cranberry it goes to Family and hence Cranberry subtotal, but not if it is cranberry lemonade because then it goes to Family and then Lemonade subtotal, (unless of course it’s cranberry punch lemonade, which would put it back into kids, unless of course it’s our old favorite Crystal Light, which puts it back into the Adult category!!!!)And I have to write the booylean programming for that. I ended up specifying every flavor of punch, which sucked, because there’s a lot of punch out there. Island punch, tropical punch, raspberry punch, toe jam punch, etc. I am not paid enough to know this much about juice. So just make my life easier and don’t buy BrandX juice’s under any circumstance. If we all work together on this, we can show these assholes that they shouldn’t be so overly concerned about flavors!
Why does he leave an onion chopped up in the kitchen? Did his mother always pick it up for him? And did she do that because her mother always did that for her brother and father? Why is this somehow our responsibility? Is the absence of an additional X chromosome somehow linked to the desire to have a clean house but not the desire to actually contribute toward its cleanliness?
So many women are socialized to not think of themselves. Calgon has made a fortune by telling women “you can allow yourself to be pampered if you use Calgon”. I always am reminded of my great-grandmother who always took the smallest piece of cake, took the least comfortable chair, wore thread-bare clothing when her husband and children had nice stuff. She has been commended for this by my grandmother, her daughter. I always thought she was nuts. Didn’t she WANT the biggest piece of chocolate cake? Was she crazy? I took it gladly, but now I feel guilty about it. Why my guilt for something that was offered freely? I think women have been socialized to be martyr’s and domestic help. Little girls are given plastic tea sets and toy babies. They are taught to diaper and do the dishes by the age of four.
And if you want to make apricot jam, then go ahead but it doesn’t have to be a statement about your life. Sometimes, it’s just jam.
I love my new email account! It’s magically delicious!!!!
I feel lonely. Please sign my guestbook.. Come on… everyone’s doing it!
Have you Seen These?
2001-07-02Come on… try it… everyone’s doing it!
2001-07-02 If you’re gonna spew, spew into this.
2001-07-01 Huzzah! Lady Weetabix approaches on her trusted steed, Vomitorium!
2001-06-29 Journey to the center of Mulletdom
2001-06-28 Is you is or is you ain’t my Savior?
2001-06-27 Mattel introduces Slutty ‘Ho Barbie!
2001-06-26 More Fart humor at Casa Weetabix
