OK, so yesterday’s post was all deep and poignant and shit.
Which always makes the next day’s post difficult. I can’t just be poignant forever, people. All of your internet hugging would cause me to shrivel up like a salted slug.
OK, and now that image is troubling me. Because I have used that image before to describe a shrinking penis. And I am not a shrinking penis.
Fuck it, it’s a no-backsies kind of day. Your hugs? They cause me to shrivel like a penis in cold water.
I appreciate the hugs, but people?
There is shrinkage.
Yes! A Seinfeld reference.
I am all insane today.
Mark and the girls are out soapbox racing, and I am not. I am here by myself. I have been up since 5:30 this morning. Which is not like me at all. Running amuck in small circles in my house. Spinning in my desk chair.
It spins, people. It so fucking does.
Wheeeee!
So today? For your reading pleasure?
I present . . .
10 FABULOUS THINGS I HAVE DONE ALL BY MYSELF TODAY
(Get ready, people. Because seriously? I am all inspiring up in here.)
1) I commented all over the fucking place in blogging-land. If I forgot to comment where you live? I don’t want to hear about it, as I am all commented out today. Plus also? Some of the comments I left this morning? Sassy and rude. Please do not email me or be in touch in any fashion with your complaints, as I don’t fucking care. Also? Beneath my sassy rudeness? Was truth.
2) I completely forgot to eat food. I was emailing and commenting and spinning frenetically in my chair, and then suddenly I was all, “I have not eaten anything since yesterday afternoon! I should so do something about that.” And so now? I am eating the marshmallows out of the box of Lucky Charms cereal and throwing the crappy nutritious parts to the dogs. Marshmallows are food, right? Dairy or some shit, pretty sure. Plus also? The dogs love me.
3) I have refused to answer the phone, despite the fact that the people on the other end of the line? Are people I love. When the phone rings? I look at the Caller ID and I get all testy with the person making the phone call . . . making demands on my time and energy with talking. What the fuck? In related news? Those of you who know me in real life and keep leaving me messages to call you back? I will probably not be doing that. Send me an email. Or comment on a post. Snort.
4) I threw an enormous bucket of water on the neighbor’s dog. They are out of town camping, and the dog-sitter left the dog outside for the day. The dog? Is not happy to have missed out on the camping trip, and would like the world to know of his sadness. So really, I did him a favor, because now? He can pretend he got to go on the river rafting portion of the trip. Stupid barking dog.
5) I grabbed two magazines and headed out into the back yard to lie in the hammock and flip through them. On the way out of the house, I tossed one, unread, into the recycling bin . . . Martha Stewart’s Living. We got the subscription with some unused airline miles, and a bigger waste of airline miles? I cannot imagine. Martha Stewart is all in the world that I am not, and unless she has plans to come over and envy my life? I do not need her fucking with my perception of mine by making me feel inadequate.
6) Read Esquire instead. Love this magazine. Plus? It smells good. Like a man but with none of the annoyance. Love that.
7) Flipping through the pages, I am struck again at just how not-hot Clive Owen now is. There was a time, though? Oh my god. He was in a TV series on PBS called Second Sight like ten years ago, and he was just edible. Raw and imperfect and yummy. Now? He has been all teeth-whitened and teeth-straightened and botoxed and Americanized. Plus? He is pitching Bulgari cologne. Way fucking gay. Nothing wrong with way fucking gay, but my sexual fantasies? Require a more somber mood.
8) A few more pages, though? And I am in love. Who the fuck is Violante Placido? Swoon. I spend some time staring at her photo, because honestly? It is awesome. She is awesome. I love Mark, but Mark is not here. In Mark’s absence? Violante Placido is all I really need. Oh my god. She gets hotter as I stare. I like that quality in a fantasy woman.
9) Spent some time on-line looking for a way to link this photo. Can’t be done. You’re just going to have to go out and buy the magazine . . . September 2010 issue of Esquire. Page 68. Perhaps you can rip the page out surreptitiously as you cough. Cheaper that way. You’re welcome.
10) And so we come to the end of the list. Someone who I believe would request anonymity in this matter asked me if I was planning on spending any family-free time this weekend “jerking off.” To which I replied . . . “Duh.” Because, people? Do you not know me at all?
Duh.
I told you I was all kinds of inspiring up in here!
And that coughing sound you hear?
That’s just to cover the ripping out of a page.
The magazine would not stay open.
SNORT!
Plus also? It is good I am not left to my own devices too often.
I am running amuck!
And my chair?
It spins!
It so fucking does.
Wheeeee!
You threw out a Martha Stewart magazine. That is all.
Sigh.
You? You are awesome.
But Martha?
She bugs the crap out of me.
Now I have to go commit magazine vandalism in Shopper’s Drug Mart. Thanks. Thanks a lot.
I am ever so hopeful that Esquire is not packaged in plastic.
That will require more coughing.
I have faith in you.
Report back.
Hey! So that’s why i’ve got “KRIS WOZ ERE” sprayed all over my blog wall? Do you know how hard that is gonna be to clean?
Not that I’d want to ever clean it. Honoured, honoured.
And about those Lucky charms: he’s mine and I’ll fight you for him! OK maybe we can share. Let’s talk.
Violante! The name is enough. I’m a sucker for medieval names. Yes I said sucker. Oo-ee Google image search. Oo-ee.
I am liking you more and more, fellow Nigel stalker.
But seriously? Miss Violante does not seem to be able to take a bad photo, but the one in Esquire?
You must go find it. It is awesome.
And if you are going to be tossing oral sex references wherever you go?
I may soon be stalking you as well as Nigel.
I got nothing but time and fantasy over here.
Hee hee!
Obviously, you should both just share me.
Because that would be awesome.
And I would be so tired and dehydrated all the time.
Which again would be awesome.
I’ll just pack my bags and meet you all at some neutral location.
Fuck neutral.
I hear Costa Rica is gorgeous!
I’ll pack extra water for that dehydration thing.
Excellent. At least we wouldn’t worry about having to find someplace to stay.
And I’ll pack… well, I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to make it useful.
You are always prepared.
I have complete faith that you will pack appropriately.
Off to buy extra bedding and whipped cream.
And rope.
You never know when it might come in handy.
And Otter Pops!
Do they sell those in Costa Rica?
I could bring some.
Please do! We don’t have them here, and the local equivalents don’t have otters with funky names.
I’m off to stock up on garlic and copies of Esquire now.
And an ostrich feather duster.
Cleanliness is next to godliness… and just as boring.
How have I not met you before this?
Feather dusters?
Yes, please.
Anonymity? Fuck that. If I were home all weekend by MYSELF, I would spend some quality time with myself, jerking off. As any warm-blooded woman (or man, but duh) should. Glad to hear you are. Warm-blooded.
It’s Marian!
She of the jerking-off question!
Marian and I are like the exact same person except that she writes poetry and also admires Dooce.
I am working to forgive her for this second and more grievous deficiency.
The poetry, though?
Is fucking awesome.
Sheesh, nothing wrong with Dooce. Doesn’t mean I don’t admire YOU.
Her name?
Speaks to me of bowel movements.
That is all.
As in “Gotta go drop a dooce?” Yep. Me too.
I betcha Dooce would spend a little time jerking off if she had a weekend all to herself.
She is never alone, and if she were to jerk off?
We would be subjected to perfect photos of that activity.
And we would be offered the opportunity to purchase the most perfectly adorable dildo?
Imaginable.
maybe she reads Pretty All True and will see your wonderful suggestion. a girl can dream.
OK, if that were to happen?
I would take back every bad thing I ever said about her.
Because that?
Would be AWESOME!
marshmallows are a perfectly healthy meal. the end.
Exactly.
Especially when washed down with coffee.
There is just nothing that could go wrong on that genius diet.
Snort!
Well hello, Miss Wild and Sassy! All coffee and no food is a dangerous combination, I see.
Now, go masturbate furiously and take a nap. Then, come back and laugh with me on Twitter. Because I’m in the mood for that.
Well, also for the furious masturbation and napping, but I’m not alone in the house. Sad, sad me.
Yes!
I am all wild and sassy and dangerous!
Heading to find you on Twitter.
pretty sure you showed me my first playgirl/ ridiculous sincere pants-less men in cable knit sweaters on the beach
That cannot be true!
That is all kinds of inappropriate!
Were the men on the beach?
Or were we?
Just so my memory may be jogged.
so true
men on the beach of course
i think we were at your college dorm room
i also remember we saw purple rain on one of my visits to see you at college
Good lord.
I remember that!
Yikes!
Okay, marshmallows? Are made of sugar. With coffee? Clearly the perfect dietetic choice. And no matter what you say, I still love Clive Owen. He is yumsters. That is all.
Clive Owen is not the man he used to be.
Not even close.
So sad.
i do love a good twirl.
As I mentioned elsewhere?
The twirl?
Sort of my trademark.
You’re welcome.
Snort.
I might just need to go out and “rip some pages” because damnit my husband has been gone two weeks and I am going out of my MIND with the lack of getting any. And no getting any until October so seriously? His parents better stay the fuck away from us our first night reunited because they did not drive out here to meet my son ever, so they can wait one more day while I do my husband senseless.
What’s cool about this whole blogging thing?
Is how women come together and work out issues. All sensibly and reasonably. Find support.
This . . .
His parents better stay the fuck away from us our first night reunited because they did not drive out here to meet my son ever, so they can wait one more day while I do my husband senseless.
This has made me laugh so hard, sexy woman with in-law issues.
So fucking hard.
Thank you!
“So fucking hard”…that’s what she said.
I am all immature giggling over here.
Love that.
There is just too much talk of the yummy marshmello-y goodness in the blogsphere today. First Nigel, now you. And its too much temptation for me to resist the call of them from my own pantry. I’ll just have to tell my son they came that way from the cereal factory and hope he believes me.
When Mofthesea mentioned the cereal in connection with Nigel?
I had no idea what she was talking about.
But now that I have been there?
Let’s just say Nigel and I?
We are kindred spirits.
Also? I am a little freaked out.
I am all haunting everyone’s blogs and brains!
Wooooooooooooooooooo!
I am so scary.
And ubiquitous.
Scary and ubiquitous?
I will be in a constant state of terror!
You’re welcome.
Ubiquitous, yet nowhere to be seen.
Tsk-tsk.
You can’t see me?
Because I can see you.
Woo hoo!
you don’t scare me.
Stalker.
Oh, wait…
doh.
I know, right?
He is perhaps a watcher?
Jesus Christ!
You scared the shit out of me!
I am not stalking any one.
I am stalking every one.
Now would all of you please hurry up and remove your tops?
Do I have to do all the work around here?
Did I not mention before that I blog in the nude?
I know that I did.
You are fifteen degrees of wild and crazy over there.
I’ve turned on Portland news because when the SWAT team comes, I want the arial footage.
And throwing away Martha? Blasphemy. But we’re already hell-bound so I can’t see how it matters much.
It was that marshmallows.
Gateway cereal. Told you.
Yes, that is me.
Hell-bound.
But first?
I’m going to Costa Rica!
That’s on the way, I believe.
Plus also?
YES!
I was talking to you BEFORE either of our posts about the Lucky Charms I would be eating.
YES!
You are my witness.
Smack in the middle of the way.
It’s where you have the fun that makes hell totally worth it.
I am not sure if you are stalking me?
Or looking to get at Nigel through me?
But I like.
I have the feeling that we are smack-dab in the middle of a menage a stalk here.
It should be illegal.
It probably is.
Nope.
Everyone’s happy.
What’s a little stalking and window peering between friends?
Nobody’s calling the cops.
Right?
Hell to the no.
I am so ghetto.
Fo’ shizzle.
So marshmallows are an excellent snack and I’m pretty sure they are either no cal or low cal so healthy too!! Also, Martha is a bitch. A can decorate and bake pretty things, but a bitch none the less and I would never read one of her mags. Lastly, spinny chairs make me queezy.
You?
Are a woman of strong opinions today!
I am just going to stay out of your way.
Oh, you don’t want to do that!! Strong opinion days are my specialty! You never know what words of wisdom will come out!
Well, I guess it’s safe.
As long as your opinions where I am concerned are mostly positive?
So far, so good.
Whew!
I was away from my computer all afternoon and missed this!.
Dammit.
The comments today are en fuego.
I just overheard the TV yelling “Live long and suck it!”
Non-sequituresque, but somehow? Needed to share.
Twirl away, lovely friend!
I missed you!
I will let you know the next time there is to be fire.
Live long and suck it!
An excellent battle cry!
YAY!
Feeling some serious pressure to be a twirling, marshmallow eating, self pleasuring smart ass. Let’s all pretend that I was.
Kris – you are awesome and I love you – even though you have thrown out Martha – the one woman I can look to regularly and almost touch my inadequateness.
Not quite as fun as touching my..other stuff.
My inadequateness?
Cannot be touched.
Not even.