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Archive for July, 2002

|| July 28, 2002 || 4:27 am || Comments (0) ||

And ohbytheway: If a couple of you would like to call me as the morning progresses, message me.

Or I can call you. Whatthefuckever. I’m sorta easy at this point.

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The Practical Guide To Southern Verbiage And Colloquialism For The Addled Ferner:

cain’t holdjer mud
cannot keep up; cannot pull your weight

“Awwwww, drankin’ uh fitha whiskey ain’t hard…you jes’ cain’t holdjer mud.”

|| July 28, 2002 || 3:58 am || Comments (0) ||

Twenty things that I find sexy:

–the way that some Brits say ‘wiv’ instead of ‘with’
–late-night phone conversations
–men who laugh when I call them “BITCH!”
–low-slung ballcaps
–a strong, raunchy bassline
–big, ‘manly’ hands with long, lithe fingers
–males in blue jeans with bare chests and bare feet
–a good vocabulary
–speed (the locomotive type, der.)
–solid eye contact
–heand-written letters on crisp, heavy paper
–candles’ glow
–disciplined swagger
–live music
–lone scars on smooth skin
–watching someone’s mouth –really focusing on it– as they speak
–big coverlets and a mound of fluffy pillows
–sunlight through half-open blinds
–people who dance without inhibition

|| July 28, 2002 || 3:31 am || Comments (2) ||

My horrorscrape says, “Aries is working when you ought to be playing. You deserve more than you’re getting. The Pisces Moon won’t deny you anything, but you have to phrase the question properly.”

Hear that people?? So my question is, “Just where the fuck are my comments, huh?” There’s been, like 70 of ya here per hour all night. Speak!!

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The Practical Guide To Southern Verbiage And Colloquialism For The Addled Ferner:

knee-walkin’ drunk
extreme level of intoxication which blocks the ability to locomote properly on two feet, but predicates crawling

“Momma embarrassed me so bad at my weddin’….she got knee-walkin’ drunk and told dirty jokes all naht.”

|| July 28, 2002 || 2:55 am || Comments (0) ||

April love is striking poses and quoting scenes from Zoolander.

I am so very afraid.

DOWN. BY THE RIVER. IN A VAN. That’s what I say.

My foot is resting on cool metal. It is a somewhat divine feeling.

|| July 28, 2002 || 2:30 am || Comments (0) ||

April Love and I have just busted out the hooch. Thaaaaaat’s riiiiiii-iiiiiiight….my daddy’s homemade plum wine. w00t!

In all frankness, I cannot guarantee your safety henceforth, gentle reader. Just so you know.

And April Love tells me that I should tell you all to eat my ass. With a cracker. As you might well imagine, that made me laugh like a fucktard. Immensely.

*unabashed, childish glee*

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The Practical Guide To Southern Verbiage And Colloquialism For The Addled Ferner:

wine; vino

“My Diddy, he makes a meaaaan batcha wahhn.”

|| July 28, 2002 || 2:03 am || Comments (0) ||


Guess who is not even near fatigue??

|| July 28, 2002 || 1:27 am || Comments (2) ||

CLAYTON! YOU VIRILE HUNK OF POP-UP GOODNESS, April Love is passed out on the floor.

All she said before she went under was,

“Oh.My.God. He has juuuuunk liiiiines! I just LOVE that shit!”