As sometimes happens?
My brain is empty.
As always happens? When I mention this fact to Mark? He annoys the shit out of me.
Here’s me . . .
“OK, so I have nothing to say today.”
He swivels in his chair and stares at me, and then he says, “Well, if it was easy? They wouldn’t call it work.”
He actually said that.
Mark is lucky today’s post isn’t about how the girls help me drag his lifeless body out into the back yard and bury it beneath the plum tree.
Hmmmph.
And then? He leans back in his chair and takes a bite of his bagel, “I’ll just sit here and be your muse. You just soak it all in and get all inspired and then you’ll have a post.”
Seriously, people . . . the plum tree needs fertilizer.
He is cute, though.
Mark was scrolling through my comments last night and laughing, “You pay a lot of attention to Nigel in your comments.”
Mark has mentioned this fact before.
Ahem.
I am perhaps a tiny bit obsessed with Nigel.
You may have noticed.
Nigel is awesome.
Swoon.
I am perhaps more than a tiny bit obsessed with Nigel. If you visit his blog? You will see that I have been spending quite a bit of time over there.
And that I am not always appropriate.
Ahem.
So if you have been wondering to yourself, “Where the fuck has Kris been? She used to be all over the place commenting, but lately? Not so much.”
The answer is that I probably accidentally left your comment over at Nigel’s place.
Sorry about that.
Nigel’s blog? Beyond awesome.
Seriously, people. The man can fucking write.
His blog? Highlight of my fucking day. He posts endless awesome stuff.
Mark is still sitting here being all muse-like. Snort!
He is all cute and bagel-chomping.
OK, and guess what else?
I have no porn.
Which is just a tragedy.
Seriously, people . . . if the woman in a relationship says, out loud . . . “Ummmm, we have not watched porn in a while.”
Wouldn’t you think it was the man’s job to take care of that shit?
Me too.
Get on that, babe.
Last night, we were watching Rescue Me. Denis Leary is way hot.
I am not going to entertain opposing viewpoints on this, so be prepared to have your comment edited if you disagree.
Plus also? If you have never watched this show? Please do not reveal this ugly deficient side of yourself to me. I prefer to think that you are perfect.
Anyway. In last night’s episode, the firemen had a large blue cooler in which they kept all of their porn. It was way fucking heavy.
Or at least they pretended that it was heavy for the purposes of the scene’s humor. I am aware that television is not real, people. I am not delusional.
A porn cooler.
Snort!
Yeah, this post is pretty much going nowhere.
Let’s see . . . what do we have so far . . . My head is empty. Mark is dead and buried. Nigel is dressed as a fireman, and we’re sitting on the couch watching porn we have pulled from a large blue cooler. Nigel looks mysteriously like Denis Leary. But with a sexy accent of some sort. Pretty sure. Yes, and there are plums to eat.
Shut up. It could happen.
Well, not really.
I am aware of the difference between fantasy and reality, people.
I am not delusional.
I said shut up.
My reality at the moment? Is filled with the sounds of furniture being moved on the floor above me. Not just chairs, either. If I am correct? I hear couches.
Sigh.
There are five children here today. My two and three others. I am hiding in the basement here at my desk and hoping that the destruction being wrought above me? Does not result in serious physical injury or property damage.
Fingers crossed.
These same five children were here yesterday, and at the end of the day? There was craft devastation as far as the eye could see. Half-finished projects everywhere. Glitter and beads and paper scraps and glue and sparkles and stickers and yarn and ribbon and markers and paint and clay.
We have a huge craft cupboard down here in the basement just behind where I sit. Children are forever rummaging through my shelves . . . Can I use this? Can I have that? Do you have any paintbrushes? Do you have any scented markers? Can I have that? Can I use this?
And I pretty much say, “Sure. Take it and go.”
With an emphasis on the word go.
And now there is furniture being dragged above me.
Who knows what they have in mind.
I should probably go check.
OK, stopped to check in on them on my way out to the garage. They are planning on being Olympic gymnasts in the living room, and the couches were in the way. Who am I to stand in the way of future Olympians? Told them to carry on.
Here out in the garage . . .
Yes, there it is.
Ummmm, Mark?
Remember what we talked about?
Get on that, babe.
Because I?
Have the cooler.
SNORT!
Ive spent some time with Nigel too. … he is pretty awesome! ;)
He so is.
But shhhhhhh . . . we don’t want him to get all full of himself.
Shhhhhhh.
It is so too late for that.
Hee hee!
You are everywhere!
I am not unlike Elvis in that respect.
And also like Elvis?
I am still alive.
Wooooooooo!
K. I could NOT resist reading a blog post with the title “Porn Cooler” – that shit is GOLDEN. Perfecto. And anyone who doesn’t think Denis Leary is hot is not smart enough for the internets. Also- loving the SNORT. Super triple perfecto.
Super triple perfecto?
Snort!
That is fucking awesome!
And Denis Leary?
So hot.
So fucking hot.
Happy sighs.
It’s kind of funny that you talk up my awesome writing skills on the day I am doing nothing other than putting up linked Youtube clips of WKRP In Cincinnati, although I am giving away organs in my first internet contest. Enter often!
Also: Denis Leary is excellent, and I have all of the Rescue Me DVDs right over there on the shelf, next to another great show of his, The Job. We are big fans of Denis Leary around here.
Also more: if you are in need of porn, I can hook you up.
What?
Let’s snuggle and I’ll work whisper dirty accented things into your ear.
Or we can eat plums. Whichever.
ACK!
You are here all speedily!
Plus also?
Swoon.
Serious snuggling swoonage.
I am all alliterative in my fantasies!
YAY!
I mean . . . SUPER!
Also?
WKRP?
Really?
I love that show.
I always wanted to be Bailey Quarters.
Going to check.
As I mentioned over on the blog, Bailey is the one that I always wanted, and has set me up for a lifetime of wanting the nerd girl over the rest.
I swoon for Bailey.
Are you kidding me?
Now that you have returned, you see that I was in fact not kidding.
Serious man-crush on Bailey.
Epic.
You are seriously freaking me out.
Really? Just now I am freaking you out?
Just this minute?
NO.
I only meant you are freaking me out anew.
Yikes.
It’s a skill.
There should be some way that I can make a buck off this.
Let me work on that.
I’m with Amy, I had to read it. haha I think Mark needs to take care of some business. hahaha
Babe?
Are you listening?
I am off work today, and so I am haunting the internet. Also trying to get Sophie to take a nap.
Nap thing? Not working all that well.
I’m glad you’ve finally owned up to your addiction, by the way. It’s good to come clean.
About the porn, I mean.
Snort!
If I was addicted to porn?
This fucking cooler would not be empty.
My addiction to you and your words however?
That shit is filling my head.
Stop that.
I can’t quit yet.
The cooler isn’t full yet.
I need room for my life here.
Stop with the awesome!
Stop that!
I can’t just turn it off, you know. It’s like I’m all radioactive and shit.
Like a Chevy Malibu with an alien in the trunk.
Now let’s go do some crimes. Like get sushi, and not pay.
A Repo Man reference?
You are killing me.
Good thing you are so extraordinary.
Because ordinary fucking people? I hate ‘em.
I don’t mean to kill anyone here.
But I’d torture someone in a second if it was up to me.
But what about our relationship?
Fuck that!
Okay, not really, but it is the way the quote goes.
So back off, people, if I’m coming across a little intense.
The life of a repo man is always intense.
Be careful of all that intensity.
There could be combustion.
It happens sometimes. People just explode. Natural causes.
Okay! Seriously?! You did not just say you want to be Bailey Quarters even before reading Nigel’s post because that is way wrong. You guys are like two halves of some super-awesome porn cooler possessing Denis Leary loving gifted writer super-human. The thought of this is getting me a little hot and bothered. Someone say something to me an accent, stat! Oh wait, I know, you guys are the love child of Dr. Johnny Fever and Bailey Quarters! This is fucking fantastic.
It’s a past life thing, I think.
I was a powerful, rich, handsome king of an epic and enlightened society. There was peace and harmony, art and literature, beauty and wonder all around.
Kris worked in the kitchen, I think. I can’t really remember for sure.
Hey Kris: go get me a sandwich.
Perhaps?
Oh fuck.
I have nothing.
I am a little freaked out.
Nigel is all fucking up in my head.
What the fuck?
Hey!
Did you just suggest I was a serving wench in past life?
OK, actually?
That’s pretty hot.
Carry on.
It was a kingdom of firemen, of course.
And the serving wenches wore nothing but aprons.
And carried lots of sandwiches.
And porn.
I so thought you would be at work and unable to comment until later.
I have miscalculated.
And if you keep talking?
I may not need that porn.
Eventually we will hit the comment limit, and then you will be safe.
Maybe.
Let me just adjust that, then.
To make more room.
Snort.
Actually, because of you?
I am already at maximum settings.
HA!
It’s terrible, isn’t it?
I am like a Lay’s potato chip: nobody can eat me just once.
What?
I . . . am . . . dying.
Seriously.
Unable to breathe.
I love you so.
I love you right back.
Obviously.
Now where’s my porn, woman? And my sandwich?
Do not make me smack you.
Nobody puts Baby in the corner and Nobody puts Kris in the kitchen. Other than that I like idea of that society. Kris? Wordless? What the fuck indeed.
Hold on.
I just need a minute.
I am flustered.
Wait, you want to be an apron-only wearing wench? Makes sense, I suppose. You’d definitely be in charge of the coolers, porn filled and not. I can’t keep up with you two. Not that I’m complaining.
Happy sighs.
Love this man.
The one I am married to, of course.
But fantasy guy?
Way hot.
We are fairly unstoppable, yes.
We should sell tickets to this.
YES!
Tickets!
I will finally make some money!
Wait until Mark hears this brilliant plan.
Snort!
My original comment was going to be: Hey, if you want a blog that turns a profit, you have to whore yourself out somehow.
Then I thought that was just a little too far.
Then I thought better of it and posted it anyway.
You’re welcome.
Seriously, though?
You and I could charge admission.
We are all whorish, the two of us.
And with our earnings?
We could buy candy!
Candy’s good.
I like candy.
I do hope you would share your candy with those of us who remain wholly entertained day in and day out by your witty repartee. You know, us Stalkers. Stalkers love candy. Can’t get enough of it. I see you…
Happy to share.
I know stalkers love candy.
You know who else has candy?
Strangers.
Strangers have the best candy!
Snort.
Well you can edit this but denis leary, NOT hot. (What I meant to say here is that Denis Leary is fucking yummy and I would eat him up with a spoon). However, the guy who plays Garrity and franco is like eye orgasms.and I totally loved the porn cooler. Also, I’m pretty sure you’re leaving Mark for Nigel. Just saying. You know, I’m all observant like that.
I warned you about the editing.
Also?
Mark read this post before I put it up.
His only editing suggestion?
Was that I remove a reference to removing my bra.
Superfluous, apparently.
Special note, people:
See how I am not commenting on Kris and her braless state?
Thank you. I will take your kudos now.
That’s because Mark was right.
There’s no need to be braless here.
Totally superfluous.
Well that’s selfish of you. What if I need my kudos for later? For that matter, what if I needed Kris’ bra later? (To…I dunno…use as a wrist-band. Kris’ bra would in no way fit me.)
Selfish, I tell you.
Later?
Just you and me?
Private show, babe.
Promise.
Hee hee!
Well okay then. I’ll save my best sulky pout just for you.
He is bringing popcorn.
What do you think?
I call unfair on that!
You should both share.
Just because.
I will bring the popcorn.
And candy you purchased with our earnings.
My favorite?
Fun Dips.
Because I am all double-entendred up in here.
Will there be Lik-a-Stik involved at all?
Just checking.
SNORT!
It’s the exact same candy, but no one knows what I am talking about when I refer to Lik-M-Stix.
You?
Are perfect.
And in answer to your actual question?
Duh.
I realized it was a “duh” question the moment it was out.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
I always take the cheap laugh.
I knew if I waited long enough, your comment limit would get reached.
But it’s okay, I’m patient. Repo man’s got all night, every night.
Be careful.
Only an asshole gets killed for a car.
This is starting to wear me down. My brain is all saucy.
You ever feel as if your mind has started to erode?
Yes, sometimes.
I believe it’s all that work I did on the neutron bomb.
Ever heard of the neutron bomb?
Feeling 7-Up, I’m feeling 7-Up! Feeling 7-Up, I’m feeling 7-Up!
What were you saying?
And now?
I am thinking that you are not paying attention to the way you stack the cans.
Be careful.
But the neutron bomb?
So small it fits in a suitcase. No one knows it’s there until BLAMMO! Eyes melt, skin explodes, everybody’s dead.
It’s way fucking immoral.
But you just sing.
What? I wasn’t singing, guy.
I’m standing right next to you, and you are so fucking singing.
Cut it out.
Fuck you, Archie. Just for that you aren’t in the gang anymore.
I don’t need you.
I’m off to do some crimes.
I’m going to get sushi . . . and not pay.
what if the porn cooler was full of Dennis Leary porn?
hold on….holding that image in my head….okay I’m back.
right?
YES!
Happy swoony lustful sighs.
Exactly.
I saw Dennis Leary live on tour some years back. I got to sing along with the “I’m an Asshole” song. We sang loud. We sang proud. It was like a large, angry, sarcastic sit-in. The joy was palpable.
Movie quote, name it: “If I have to sing ‘Kum Ba Ya’ one more time…“
That’s from The Squeakquel, right?
The chipmunks?
Hee hee!
I was just singing that one at work yesterday.
No one knew what I was referring to, of course.
Heathens.
You were signing “The Chipmunks” at work? Did anyone stab you with a styrofoam coffee cup? No, you’re lucky.
“The Asshole Song.” I was singing “The Asshole Song.”
Do you people not know me?
Stabbed with a styrofoam cup.
Snort.
I am all giddy over here.
Hmm… How can you go from Violante Placido to Dennis Leary as being hot?!?! (Although he so fucking is!) And Mark dead under the plum tree?!?!
Okay, any minute you’re going to come out of the shower and it will all have been a dream…
and you flustered, breathless, naked…
My mind works in mysterious ways.
And I did warn you about editing.
Edit away!!
So, okay. Tim got a new felt hat (yep we’re country) last Christmas. Those boxes are frickin huge. This hat box? Way heavy. Just sayin.
My furnishings are bolted to the sub-floor. Like in a hotel. No i’m not joking. I’m lazy that way. Hee.
I . . . love. . . you.
So fucking much.
So . . . fucking . . .much.
I didn’t mention the box the old hat was in. Woops. Just did.
Why? Why? WHY am I not smart enough to get this clearly clever and/or dirty joke?
Is this not a joke?
Why have I sunk so low?
We occasionally sink all low here on Pretty All True.
Right down into the muck and the mire and the filth.
It is so much fun.
Cannot even tell you.
So much fun.
Roxane -
Hee hee!
I get it.
Snort.
Do you even know what kind of favor you have just done for Nigel? (I was watching Rescue Me last night, too – yay porn cooler! am I the only person who’s really tired of Sheila? and thinks the Father Mickey thing is kind of a cop out? anyway…)
Now I’m picturing Nigel as Denis Leary with Clive Owen’s accent.
And I definitely need a fan.
I owe Nigel big time.
His comments here on my blog?
Bring me readers. I have people who visit me only to see what Nigel has to say.
Plus also? He is a genius with the words.
He just is.
But I?
Want to see Sheila and Father Mickey fucking in the church.
I so do.
If Sheila fucks anybody in a church? It’s gonna be Father Phil.
Oh, wait. Did I get the name wrong?
I mean the new guy with the eyebrows.
The crazy one with the lust for the religious statue.
That one.
Is that Phil?
Peter Gallagher. Father Phil. Yep.
Mickey is Tommy’s cousin the ex-priest, with whom Sheila is now sleeping.
My bad. Nigel distracted me.
So to be clear . . .
I want Sheila and Father Phil fucking in the church.
Yes.
I want.
You are the one that brings the readers. Most people would probably just like me to shut the hell up so that you can get back to your writing.
But I am a genius.
Hi you!
Do you really look like Denis Leary and sound like Clive Owen?
Is Kris painting the right mental pictures with her wicked verbal pen?
Of course I am painting the right mental picture!
Or at least, the one that works for me.
Ahem.
Only the shadow knows what I look and sound like.
And Kris embellishes my awesomeness a little bit.
But I am pretty fucking hot.
No question.
I had no doubt.
NigelDenisClive also makes gumbo.
HAWT.
Although there appears to have been a cooking emergency of the serious-injury sort.
He may need tending.
My readers love me.
But they do enjoy you.
A lot.
And you are a genius.
Hard to believe we aren’t like this 24/7, isn’t it?
Heh heh.
I said “hard.”
Hmmmm . . .
You aren’t?
Like this, I mean.
Not hard.
SNORT!
Someone needs to turn the hose on us.
Huh.
“Hose.”
This may be the comment that I leave that makes you not love me as much anymore, but have you EVER seen True Blood? Ryan Kwanten=sex in a church balcony with the pastor’s wife.
Are there vampires?
I do not do vampires.
hokay, so, here is de beach houze…
a lot of funny shit in the middle…
…porn, coolers — i do love plums — dennis emeffin’ leary, which leads me to jon stewart & pretty jewish men, popcorn — i know how you feel about popcorn — bralessness (which we all know is pretty swell), serving wenches, glitter, bagels, sexy accents…
nigel can come, too.
Nigel can come?
Snicker.
Watch it, you.
Well, if you want to, I mean.
Hah!
This is getting out of hand.
Was it in hand before?
Just checking.
I thought you had hidden cameras to take care of that information for you?
You’re slacking!
I can’t be everywhere all the time.
Not like some people.
You’d miss me if I weren’t up your ass at any given moment.
I will bring a bag of fresh snark, just in case.
Yes, we will need refueling.
Indeed.
You bring the booze.
Lots of booze.
And now, babe?
I am off to take the kids to the lake.
Much love to you.
Much love.
But making a note of the booze.
I will stop and pick some up while I am out.
Carry on, young lady.
I shall now proceed to scurry into the kitchen and whip up some gumbo.
I am all sorts of awesome and shit.