BACK FROM HIBERNATION
Nobody, not even the obilgated brother deigns to read this anymore. This blog has to condemned to Blog Hell, where all the sad little abandoned blogs go to die. But here I am secretly updating it!! It's like the perfect neurotic unpredictable thing to do. I'm thwarting normality! I'm thwarting it!! Thwart Thwart. Upon which she unleashes a Super Mega Charge Paralyzing Ray Gun and blasts the retard politicians of America into nonexistence.
Among the great mysteries of the World:
1. How the FUCK did George Bush get elected?
2. Which planet did the people who support the war in Iraq sprout out of?
3. What the FUCK do they put in those Krispy Kreme donuts?
Hey... hey, don't get me wrong here, I don't mean to demean the war in Iraq. It's big. Like a major booger that comes along once every billion years. But frankly, I'm just so sick of the CNN, Time Magazine, MSNBC, dissecting the war, dicussing it with top politicians and major "experts", debating the morality of the whole damn thing. Fuck it. Take away all the glossy, forehead scrunching, Texas accented passionate but mispronounced speeches, and what you got is, " I really don't like Sadaam's face."
I'm not going to talk about it anymore. It gets me riled up, and when I get riled up, I do the sort of things people do when they are high on alchohol and dope, like calling distant ex-boyfriends and accusing them being emotional fuckwits. Here's me, Friday night, 2 glasses of wine, a Cosmo, a Long Island Tea and a Bacardi Coke after dinner:
ME: You! (pointing stubby accusatory finger at ex-boyfriend)
PUZZLED EX-BOYFRIEND: Erh?
ME: You stole his key! You KNEW he had to come home! And you didn't even have the decency to give him HIS FUCKING Key? Asshole
EX-BOYFRIEND: Erh.
AMUSED FRIEND: She's drunk. Don't listen to her.
ME: (Shifting accusatory finger to amused friend) I'm not drunk. Shut up.
ME:(To ex-boyfriend) Fucker. (leaves)
For the sake of clarity, ex-boyfriend in question was not said ex-boyfriend whom had called up and accused of being emotional fuckwit. In speaking of ex-es, I've decided that I've had too many. And therefore I'm going to have no more. My next boyfriend is going to marry me. Although I will refrain from telling him so until I have his testicles firmly in my grip and am applying continuously increasing pressure. Which brings me to my next dilemma, of not having a next boyfriend.
Which cannot be unusual considering the state of my blog entries to date.
Nobody, not even the obilgated brother deigns to read this anymore. This blog has to condemned to Blog Hell, where all the sad little abandoned blogs go to die. But here I am secretly updating it!! It's like the perfect neurotic unpredictable thing to do. I'm thwarting normality! I'm thwarting it!! Thwart Thwart. Upon which she unleashes a Super Mega Charge Paralyzing Ray Gun and blasts the retard politicians of America into nonexistence.
Among the great mysteries of the World:
1. How the FUCK did George Bush get elected?
2. Which planet did the people who support the war in Iraq sprout out of?
3. What the FUCK do they put in those Krispy Kreme donuts?
Hey... hey, don't get me wrong here, I don't mean to demean the war in Iraq. It's big. Like a major booger that comes along once every billion years. But frankly, I'm just so sick of the CNN, Time Magazine, MSNBC, dissecting the war, dicussing it with top politicians and major "experts", debating the morality of the whole damn thing. Fuck it. Take away all the glossy, forehead scrunching, Texas accented passionate but mispronounced speeches, and what you got is, " I really don't like Sadaam's face."
I'm not going to talk about it anymore. It gets me riled up, and when I get riled up, I do the sort of things people do when they are high on alchohol and dope, like calling distant ex-boyfriends and accusing them being emotional fuckwits. Here's me, Friday night, 2 glasses of wine, a Cosmo, a Long Island Tea and a Bacardi Coke after dinner:
ME: You! (pointing stubby accusatory finger at ex-boyfriend)
PUZZLED EX-BOYFRIEND: Erh?
ME: You stole his key! You KNEW he had to come home! And you didn't even have the decency to give him HIS FUCKING Key? Asshole
EX-BOYFRIEND: Erh.
AMUSED FRIEND: She's drunk. Don't listen to her.
ME: (Shifting accusatory finger to amused friend) I'm not drunk. Shut up.
ME:(To ex-boyfriend) Fucker. (leaves)
For the sake of clarity, ex-boyfriend in question was not said ex-boyfriend whom had called up and accused of being emotional fuckwit. In speaking of ex-es, I've decided that I've had too many. And therefore I'm going to have no more. My next boyfriend is going to marry me. Although I will refrain from telling him so until I have his testicles firmly in my grip and am applying continuously increasing pressure. Which brings me to my next dilemma, of not having a next boyfriend.
Which cannot be unusual considering the state of my blog entries to date.
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