Lay Off Me!!!

You know those people that you just can't communicate with, no matter how hard you try? Like you say, open the left drawer, reach into the last tray, and grab a big purple dildo with which to SLAP YOUR STUPID FACE, and they go, tray? Tray?! Those are not trays, they're cubbies. And you go, that's not the point, you douche!!!!

I have one of those. No matter what I say to this ogre, she comes back at me with 17 nitpicky arguments about every word out of my mouth. For example, I can ask her to please pass me a beer, and she's all, "Why didn't you ask Nick to do it? He's closer. It's not even beer anyway, it's actually malt liquor, which is stupid." And I'm all, shut the fuck up and pass me the goddamn bottle before I stab out my own eyes with fury.

It drives me insane with ick. She's so hideous that she reminds me of Chris Farley in drag. If only she were this funny…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-H_e7sMyhI

My Guitar Hero

Guitar of plastic hoisted as a weapon,
Clicking like sticky keys.
The scarlet of his hoodie blinds him,
Obscuring the scrolling primary notes,
While his boxers billow with the force of his rock.

Bottle green reaper writhes with the rhythm,
As he caresses the whammy bar.
Dominating the Sabbath,
He smirks at me in triumph,
And I lift my shirt in amazement.


The star power is ready,
The star power is ready,The star power is ready, oh.

Chicken & Beer

Ok, so I must be nesting or something but I've decided to do the most hokey, dorky, and totally fabulous thing as soon as I have a real backyard. I'm going to get laying hens. Hooray!

I'm going to build a coop and raise two chicks into fantabulous egg-laying skanks. I'm SO excited!!! I even know what I'm going to name them already: Shikaka and Wehrenberg.

Wehrenberg, for those of you unacquainted with St. Louis moviegoing, is a set of theaters that has this awesome theme song in which they whisper the theatre name in terrifying tone about 13 times. That doesn't sound like a long time, but dude. Try it. Right now. Whisper "Wehrenberg" 13 times to yourself. See?! Creepy, but money.

Anywho, I'm very happy about my plans to have fresh eggs all the time from chickens that are spoiled rotten. I would secretly love to have a goat, but I just don't drink a lot of goat milk. Or, any at all. And cows are too big to really keep in your backyard. They need to make mini cows just for people like me who are closet wanna-be farmers. Oooh! And tiny elephants. How sick would that be?

I can't wait, y'all. Just thinking about this makes me squeal with delight and wiggle in happiness!

M(e) Theory

So, evidentially, there are parallel universes. (Yes. I watch a lot of Science Channel. Eat it.) This is good, because in current reality, I'm entirely too lazy to get off my fat/hawt ass and do ambitious things. Things like not rotting on the couch whilst watching Dancing with the Stars. Sooo, news of the multiverse means that I'm actually accomplishing all of the bad ass stuff I should be doing elsewhere that I'm too lame to bang out here.

I'm so excited about this news that I felt the need to share with you all the superfly things that I am in an alternate universe:

A professional ballroom dancer named Pansy Piper.

Elementary school mashed potatoes with the kick ass yellow gravy on top.

A butch singer in a rock band who exclusively wears leather.

A soap opera actress who plays Olivia St. James-Cockfield-Applebottom-Bacon- Pujols-Pickles-Butkus-Drewpeacock-Fach-Shagger-Jezvahted-Beaver-Butts-Seaman-Shafts-Wang-Woodcock-Wong-Peters-Kuntz-Weiner-Scrodanus-Cox, the most widowed woman on day time television.

An exotic dancer with a pole routine entitled: The Stapler.

A giant squid. Squid RULE!

Head cheerleader for local basketball team, the Wet Wedgies.

Archaeologist and discoverer of the lost library of Alexandria, Cindy Anna Scones.

A marine biologist who leaves behind the perils of the world of men to live with the manatees.

Someone who has Bad Motherfucker written on her wallet.

Disgustingly wealthy.

In possession of a giant rack.