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Archive for April, 2003

|| April 3, 2003 || 10:47 am || Comments (5) ||

Upon being burned with a candle:

“Ow. That shit hurts.”


I’m going to be quite honest here; I have Internet Hangovertm. Today is my first day off in twelve –count ‘em, twelve– days. I’m gonna put on my most comfy jeans, grab my favorite blanket and some mindless magazine (I have a weakness for People, sue me) and go outside to climb onto the trampoline. When there, I am going to lie down, letting the breeze and the sun kiss me like a momma lovin’ on her child returning from summer camp and I’m a-gonna read said mindless magazine until I fall asleep, face glued to the slick pages by the drool of the truly exhausted.

I plan to stay that way until such time as my body emerges, creaky and sluggish and glad, my eyes squinting against the return to conciousness and maybe even the sun.

Hope your day is as fine by even half.

|| April 2, 2003 || 11:31 pm || Comments (3) ||

LegoJett don’t fuck around, maaaan.

Link found over at Michelle’s. Go make your own.

|| April 2, 2003 || 12:14 am || Comments (12) ||

Because he said,

“I like your long hair:

“Leave it in heavy ropes

Nestled over, around,

Between the back-cleavage

Of sharp shoulderblades

That are eased by

Bronzed skin, kid-glove soft…”

I want to hack it away,

All choppy-chunky

And flyaway folorn,

Somewhat like my heart.

He doesn’t care for

The lipstick: Not just the

Deep brick reds or the

Vaporous, shiny peaches, but

All of it, any of it.

Bare lips are naked, waiting;

So I wear the deepest

Shade of it in defiance,

Like the breath that

Emerges, wriggling and spent,

From the air-sacked traces

Of my corporal self.

Because he swore eternity

To me not once, not twice,

But three times the words rang

(Denied. DENIED.),

I will no longer dance to

Tomorrows and forevers

Or sweet vermillion promises.

I hold myself staunchly

In the moment of now and no more;

I cannot bear the heartbreak

Of feet dancing between

‘Back thens’ and ‘yet whens’.

We were drawn together,

The booze and music and

The heralded ’something more’

Were the guidons,

But I cannot abandon the

Spirits and songs.

‘Something more’, however…

That one has

To be dismissed in

Favor of the surer loves:

The memory is clever

Though, and intermingles all.

:: ::: :: ::: :: ::: ::

“Honey, we fucked each other harder with our clothes on than we ever did with them off.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

|| April 1, 2003 || 2:49 pm || Comments (13) ||

Once again, dear readery-type people, you have let your beloved Jett Grrrl down.

Yea verily, thou hast letteth mine Anti-Bloggy be awarded to another party yet again this year. As I did last year, I checked out the not really rightful recipient of MY FUCKING the ‘Biggest Potty Mouth’ award. Once again, I’ve found a handful of innocuous ‘fuck’s and ‘fucking’s, and none of the truly Creative Cursingtm that you will delightedly unearth here at Superior Industries.

For shame, for shame. Another hunk of tin (and scores of sacktime with relation to being a recipient of said hunk of tin) put to waste out here in Cyberia. It might as well have gone to Wil Wheaton; I mean, he drops the occasional f-bomb, doesn’t he?

Just to show you that “I’m-not-bitter-oh-noooo-I’m-not!”, I’ll share with you the speech I had prepared so that I, giver that I am, could bask in the glorious moment of Anti-Bloggies afterglow with you, the magnanimous Superior Muffinasses. It was a speech of unrivalled poetic proportions, a speech of earth-shattering directness, where gratitude flowed like milk and honey from my mouth and straight into your greedy, awaiting little ears:

Thanks a motherfucking wad, you cuntwhore bitchtit assjobbers. You rule my grabass peathumping cocklicking blogworld.

*sheds one lone, solitary, meaty tear*

*grabs crotch and tongues left nipple*

Shitpisstwatscrotum…you like me, you reeeeaaaalllly like me!

Such a good fucking speech. What a waste.