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Posts Tagged ‘somebody save me from myself please’

 
|| November 6, 2000 || 10:54 pm || Comments (0) ||

Last Friday night, about 11:45 p.m.:

Him: THAT was embarrassing.
Me: What was?
Him: I just floored it and nothing really happened.
Me: Oh, you’re just not romping on it right. I can get up on it every time…
Him: That was a test and you just failed it miserably, you dirty bitch.”

Fade to sounds of braying laughter….

 
|| October 19, 2000 || 12:03 pm || Comments (0) ||

For those of you that are not aware of it, I am now informing you of our impending relocation. We’ve found a lovely old large-as-we-
need-and-desire home to while away some days in.

As I previously mentioned, this house is old and required some remodeling (the people who owned the place before had somewhat atrocious taste in the whole color scheme department and we are rectifying this foot by tedious foot), which we have been doing for the past couple of weeks. Ourselves. Perhaps you know the pain and suffering that this entails. Right about now we are down to bare bones and are hustling like hell to complete all required tasks before the 30th. That is our scheduled move date.

I am sufficiently nutso right now. Stay outta my way.

In case you are in a quandary as to what to send as a housewarming gift, I have taken the liberty of perusing red envelope’s latest offerings and have compiled a list to make it much easier for you. Viola! Quandary diminished.

The wish list is as follows:

  • dean & deluca spice rack The spice rack of my DREAMS!! I swear I saw it in a vision one time…
  • bee bath oils + honey bowl Just the nifitiest little bath thingy I have seen in a long time…and honey baths are SUPREME.
  • sultan’s hanging lantern For the den.
  • scented seaglass For the master bath, which is done in horrid aqua tile. I, being the master decorator that I am, am gonna go retro with this one rather than rip it all out and start fresh. Chrome everywhere, for everyone! Screw you, IKEA!
  • riedel tasting glasses Quite beautiful and useful for my daddy’s plum wine.
  • climbing tendril Solves the ugly wine rack and not-too-much counter space dilemmas all in one.
  • calla lily bouquet My favorite flower, by far. Lovely on the sitting room mantel.
  • leonida roses Don’t usually care too much for roses, but these are gorgeous and I can’t help myself.
  • crate of mini seckel pears Mmmmm, nummy!
  • moon lantern Perfect for my office/workshop.
  • silver leaf photo album Lotsa kids, lotsa pictures. Love this album.
  • phalaenopsis orchid Sparse and not too needy, like a good plant should be.
  • shot glass chess set For entertaining all those drunken Russians that we are constantly having over. Makes for a creative nookie session as well.Shop away, my lovelies. My gratitude will be expressed with a gathering in my new abode as soon as the last of the wall art is hung. Beer and sausages will be provided, but you have to bring along your own piece of ass for post-festivity fun.

    If you are low on dough or simply a cheap fuck, fetch me something from ABC. I can work with just about anything. Just call me MacGuyver Stewart. All the skills of Martha, but less haughty/off-putting, way cooler and on steroids.

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    || October 9, 2000 || 9:48 pm || Comments (0) ||

    Lie back, daughter, let your head
    be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
    Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
    your arms wide, lie out on the stream
    and look high at the gulls. A dead-
    man’s-float is face down. You will dive
    and swim soon enough where this tidewater
    ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
    me, when you tire on the long thrash
    to your island, lie up , and survive.
    As you float now, where I held you
    and let go, remember when fear
    cramps your heart what I told you:
    lie gently and wide to the light-year stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

    // Phillip Booth, ‘First Lesson’

    I have that stupid gut-clenching, I’m-gonna-throw-up-from-the-ferocity-of-this-moment feeling. Fuck you, world. You owe me nothing, I know that…but I fucking owe you nothing either. Your chanting burns like a red-hot rock-hard fist in my brain. I am wound like one of those creepy clattering eye-rolling cymbal-crashing monkeys. I may go off in the middle of the night sometime, and you will awake fearfully, with ice-rooted hair standing up on the nape of your neck, willing itself legs to run away with.

    You just don’t realize how morbidly fucking sad you make me. You don’t realize the stone facade is only hard-packed silt and I weather away some with every heavy, labored breath you cause me to drag into myself in anger. How much, damnit, how much? How much more do I have to live it and how much less responsibility can YOU take? I mourn your passing and you are still here among the living. I am sad and sorry and ashamed to admit what your departure from this particular plane will in fact mean to me. I will be relieved to have you gone. Terrible as I am, I will be relieved and happy.

     
    || September 25, 2000 || 9:23 am || Comments (0) ||

    MAKING B.L.T. SAMMICHES

    Him: “I am making some vegetarian bacon here if you would rather have it than that.”
    *waggles finger at the package of pork bacon that I am holding*
    *I dance around with the package gleefully, pretending to lick it*
    Him: “Yeah, well, it’s not gonna be so funny when you have colon cancer.”
    Me: “NO…no, it’s not. What’s gonna be funny is when you’re having to tote my colostomy bag around for me. That’ll be DAMNED funny.”
    Him: “Do you HEAR yourself sometimes? DO YOU??”

    No one understands me. No one.

     
    || September 7, 2000 || 11:54 am || Comments (0) ||

    I am SOOO weak. Weak, I tell you!

    I can imagine life without cyberalia, without television, without a 21-cubic-foot refrigerator (please don’t mistake that for the fact that I don’t need a frig…I could get by on 3 cubic feet.). I can envision myself not pining for a microwave or a down comforter (even though polyester is quite icky in my opinion). I could get by sans socks. Minus matching tableware. I cannot, however, imagine whiling away my time shackled to the earth without MOUNTAIN DEW (proudly manufactured and distributed by Pepsico).

    I try to be good, folks. I tithe to various charities near and dear to mah heart, I go to the gym and WORK on my health on a daily basis, I eat mostly properly with a few minor indulgences here and there, I don’t beat my children, I read the instructions before assembling and I usually only verbally abuse those people who step into my path & don’t clear out quite quickly enough. See?? I try to be good. But oh, that MOUNTAIN DEW (proudly manufactured and distributed by Pepsico) has its’ shiny nuclear-green-colored claws in me and won’t allow me to shake loose.

    My theory is and has been for some years that MOUNTAIN DEW (proudly manufactured and distributed by Pepsico) is liquid crack for Generation X. Once upon a time you could not even speak to me until I had quietly meditated over half a frosty-crisp can of it in the morning. I drank no less than 3 cans a day….sometimes only 2 if there was a Pepsi lying about unattended. I have friends that joke about having an IV feed of it anchored directly into their nearest capable vein so that they can consume without the bothersome “bottom-of-the-bottle-gotta-go-and-fetch-another” happenings. Only they aren’t joking.

    Damn you, MOUNTAIN DEW (proudly manufactured and distributed by Pepsico), and your cheerful color and your pleasant wash over the palate…DAMN YOU!!!

     
    || August 24, 2000 || 11:32 pm || Comments (0) ||

    Okay, I admit it; I BACKSLID. I consumed a raspberry Zinger.

    Dolly Madison, you are a DIRTY BITCH. Maybe I should sue you a la “Tobacco Lawsuit”style….

    I could hold you accountable for some unseen illness I may be stricken with in the future because you put nasty things like excess:

  • sugar
  • fat grams
  • carbohydrates
  • red dye
    in those itty-bitty cakes. Why, if I have a carbohydrate sensitivity, you are akin to nicely-packaged drug dealers, preying on my junkie-like state when a craving comes down the pike. SHAME ON YA.
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    Wonder if they paid part of it in Twinkies? I mean, no disrespect to the injured party, but sheesh, if they paid it in dough*-re-mi, I am eating the cost (pun most assuredly intended) with my Hostess Cake purchases.

    *Geddit?? Dough…..bakery?? I KILL ME!!