|Shiny Crack Head.|
Not too sure how many of you mofos are still coming around to read this shit, especially since my last post leaves you feeling a little dirty...or sticky, as the case may be. Regardless, I shall persevere; secure in the knowledge that I am my own biggest fan and that when you all turn against me (all 4 of you), I will still love myself more than anyone else ever could.
My life is kind of complicated for a person who is so totally apathetic to everything around her and that’s no joke. Sometimes I wish I gave more of a fuck about what’s going on but then I remember that no, I really don’t. Being well informed and active in society is kinda stressful and ultimately unrewarding unless you’re interested in becoming a martyr for some cause that the world at large gives one- tenth of a fuck about. Nah, I’m good.
Who knows what’s in store for me this year, not dead yet so...+1 pour moi. My sole resolution is to use more douchy French words in posts etc, so I can sound exactly like Miss Piggy and/or Pepe Le Pew. And head-butting, I need to do more of that too.
Good news, my rib was NOT cracked as I first suspected, merely bruised and it went away fairly quickly. Some of you will know what the fuck I’m talking about and some of you will not. I guess I could write about it but not now, dear God not now. I don’t have the will power to vomit up a marginally readable post about how I (almost) cracked a rib. Fairly sure you-all have a good idea of how it happened anyway and it’s old news, like a month or more.
And MK...Christ what a cluster fuck that whole thing turned out to be and no, NOT literally. No details, it’s too painful pour moi to re-live BUT he promptly started to annoy the shit out of me (again, not literally). I got rid of him for a minute by dropping his iPhone in the toilet but it didn’t last. I continue to get lame txts and horrifically young-looking photos from one of his *spare phones. Ugh. What kind of tool needs more than one iPhone? I don’t care if he does sell weed, he’s a HS kid, not Chapo Guzman. Dumb.
So THAT was embarrassing, too bad I can’t summon up enough ‘give a fuck’ for it to be an issue. It might seem like I was actually distressed but that’s just my inner attention slut rolling out the red carpet for Le Attention Wagon. Or rolling in horse shit like a slutty black & blonde dog, whichever mental image you prefer. In reality, I thought it was kinda hilarious and totally typical of my circus sideshow existence.
Guns guns and more guns! Casey and I sat down one day and decided that we needed to accumulate a completely senseless amount of weaponry. Yay semi-auto. Sigh. He got me a Taurus .45 for Valentine’s Day. How ironic would it be if I get shot with my own V-day gun for a V(ader)-day indiscretion? I’m innocent, Vader got the worst of that barrage, my virtue is still intact...or it would be if I’d had any of that particular virtue left.
Here is my new gun, being lovingly caressed by my enormous hand, haha. Now you know why I fight like a man, it’s cuz I got the mitts for it.
|I'd say it's a bad angle but naw, they're just huge.|
And possibly the balls; jury is still out pending gyn-e-co-log-i-cal testimony, hahaha.
P.S. I’ll be back tomorrow-ish when I’m good and high. Between you, me and Huey Lewis, I’m 200% more amazing when I’m wasted. You can take that to mean that I’m pretty fucking fantastic considering how aaaaaawesome I am in general.
Besides, those black sheets looked like they’d been splattered with 3 jars of Kindergarten paste and I feel a vicious case of PTSD rapidly developing. I’ve been furiously laundering everything in sight and it didn’t even occur here. Ugh, damn straight it didn’t! So gross.
Confused? Check the FB and all will be set to rights...until you realize it wasn't nearly worth the 30 seconds it took to look :)
Happy Monday, Bitches.
|Fat Mike's Abduction/Rape victim :)|