More Shite From Go-Quiz! Gotta love those monkeys..
Now Playing: The Man Who Sold The World, Nirvana version

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ORIANASANGEL CONTAINS EXPLICIT LYRICS

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From Go-Quiz.com


Right, I'm done for now. But I have a wonderful story to tell later today!

More Random Sillines Before The Serial Goofiness.
Mood:  bright
GOD, I LOVE this stuff! A whoot whoot to acharny for getting all this cool stuff and sharing it so that people like me can exploit it!

Drinking the Rum + Monkey!
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: "Wubba Wubba Woo Chuh", Hayleigh Ann
Found some names generators, I forgot how much I LOVE these things!!!

My crappy little elf name is Pelthound Granitebottom.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.

My Iraqi Leadership Name is al-Tikriti Khalifa Abd al-Khaliq Abd al-Karim.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.

My goddamn rock solid ghetto shiznit name is Fellatio Jaam.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.

My insulting name is Penisbreath Labialips!
What's yours?

You tell me, what could be more intriguing than name generator?

Random Silliness
Mood:  silly

My My mazabas names are is Tabitha and Caesar.
Take The Boobs Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Did the hub-unit too, and he got something even better.

My HUBBY'S Penis' new name is Uncle Wizzo the Magical Salami.
Take Name Your Penis
by badasstronaut today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

I think I'm gonna go searching for more name generators! Bye!

Alcohol: Only Fun For The Sober Guy
Mood:  surprised
So last night we went out to the Fleet lounge with some of the hub-unit's friends for karaoke night. I hate karaoke. A LOT. But, we haven't been out in a while, so I obliged him and told his friends to just get him really drunk and make sure he had a good time.
Oh, how he got drunk. The three stooges went up and sang a rousing round of songs, including "Secret Agent Man", "She Fucking Hates Me", and "Play That Country Music Cowboy". My hubby can't sing. He's so tone-deaf it hurts other people. But he kept pounding down the drinks, and I sat there and watched the new lows they hit with a sparkle in my eye. It reminds me of why I quit drinking in the first place.
Not that I'm a teetolar or anything, but I only drink once in a great while, and never that much because I like to retain control of my motor functions. If I do feel the few and far between urge to get seriously hammered, I do it in my own house.
And me, being the sober one, got charged with the dubious honor of taxi service. I drove one guy's girlfriend (in truth, my friend with the gallbladder thing) home because she needed to take her oxycontin and go to sleep. Then I took these two total strangers to the bank, and it was like packing a backseat full of drunk teenagers with little impulse control. Then I had to drive everyone home that night, and some of them lived out on the edge of the island...
I hate being able to drive.
The hub-unit, fit-shaced and amorous, got home just in time to vomit copiously for the next two hours. I don't think I v;e seen anything more pathetic than a naked man horfing his guts out at 3 AM, surrounded by curious kitties. It was bad.
So with the husband fucked out of his head, I got to play nursemaid. I'm not complaining, it was rather amusing.
This morning, he's huddled up on the couch sucking down water like he's been in the desert for a month and chewing aspirin like his head's going to explode.
I don't know about anyone else, but watching the drinkers suffer is just a continuance of the fun from the preceeding night.

The Icky Things That Girls Talk About
Now Playing: Bumble Bee Tuna, Mephiskapheles
The Bestest Best Friend called yesterday, and we spent three hours talking about errant body hairs, shaving in uncomfortable places, periods, yeast infections, and urinary tract infections. It's amazing what us chicks talk about when the men folk aren't around.
Worst news ever, it turns out that the neverending occurences of UTIs and yeast infections that plague the BBF and every so often her husband turns out to be Chlamydia. They've been together for three years, so that means that they've been passing it back and forth for that long. I can say this with all certanty because she would never cheat, and he's not that fucking stupid because her mom would KILL him and bury the body in the backyard. It certainly explains some. YUCK. All I gotta say is that makes a perfect example of why everyone should get tested. Again, YUCK.
I woke up this morning to find a pad wrapper stuck to my back with kitty spit. I have to curb her craving for plastic before she chokes, or embarrasses me. She does the same thing with the plastic from cigarette packs. Just fishes them out of the garbage can like some sort of twisted raccoon and drools on it. Ick.
TODAY'S DIET:
Two pieces of toast, light butter for breakfast, skip lunch, and Arroz con Queso for dinner.
Hey, I can't give EVERYTHING up, can I?

Things that make me go Wooooooooooooooo
Mood:  silly
Now Playing: "Taste in Men", Placebo
God, how much do I LOVE Britney Spears? She just makes normal life appear so, well, NORMAL.
One of my unfavorite blondes has decided to go without a prenup for her surprising nuptials to Kevin Federline. That means that should their marriage fail (god forbid), Federline is up for at least HALF of her 100 million dollar fortune.
I'm suddenly glad that I have no money and rely completely on my hub-unit's income. Gotta love those community property laws!
So I jumped on the hubby last night for a quick "this is the last time before I feel better about myself" romantic interlude, and somehow, I don't know HOW, I upset him. Apparently he thought that because I hopped up immediately afterward and ran for the shower and then started loading the dishwasher that I didn't get anything out of it.
Well of COURSE I didn't. But NOOOO, it can't be just about him for once, I HAVE to get something out of it. If I had to get something out of it every time I had sex, we'd never have freaking sex. I don't get guys sometimes. Anyway, so even though he should have been doing the post-orgasmic glow thing, he was grumpy instead. Did I mention that I don't get guys sometimes? Let me reiterate.
And who the fuck was the genius who invented pantyliner? What the fuck kind of WASTE OF TIME are those ridiculous things? They don't stay put, the leak, they don't have enough adhesive to hold them in any one place for more than a few hours. It's like the manufacturers expect us to stop moving once we start bleeding. Sorry, guys, that's really NOT how it works. I hate 'em.

Mood:  bright
Now Playing: Everything By Nickelback
I hate this computer.
My gazelle has shipped today, which means it will be here by the 12th. I'm almost excited about working out, because maybe just maybe I'll be able to fit back into that Morticia Addams panel skirt I bought back in 2000. I was HOT in that skirt, not to mention pretty Goth-y.
My fat monkey-cat decided that 3 AM is the perfect time to move her hoard of purr-loined shiny things onto the bed. That is specifically, the crack between my bare back and the mattress. It was fun rolling over. After ceremoniously dumping the mass on the floor, I heard the tinklings and dinglings that signify her moving them to an even sneakier place somewhere down the hall. Pretty soon we're gonna need a bigger apartment.
My friend with the gallbladder problems was moved back up here to the Island for a few days, only to be moved back to Seattle when she developed a heart murmur. She's home now, resting up for a few weeks before surgery, when she'll go back to Seattle. God, that's gotta suck.
My Bestest Best friend is still bedridden and pregnant. Diagnosed with an "incompetent cervix". COME ON NOW. As a female, I'm almost offended by that term. Almost. They might as well just call it a stupid cervix and have done with it.
I'm doing fine, thank you for asking. Still leaking the silly putty-colored stuff, but that could be from the onset of yet ANOTHER monthly feminine problem. Any physical contact attempted by the hub-unit is rewarded by a high-pitched and Gollum-like squeal of "Unclean! UNCLEAN!", retaliated by a gentle bonk to the noggin.
Sometimes, I abhor being a female almost as much as I hate my computer.

Rock Me Amadeus!
Mood:  mischievious
My Inner Hero - Rogue!





It's a good thing I use my powers for good and not evil, because quite frankly, I could get away with murder. I'm clever, tricky, and charming. I know how to make you laugh with one hand and pick your pocket with the other. Not that I'd ever DO that, of course...



How about you? Click here to find your own inner hero.

This is SO me it hurts. (snork)

A Change of Plans
Mood:  caffeinated
I've had coffee, so I feel better.
I hate Windows XP, but it's better than Windows 95.
After telling the hub-unit not to touch me because it's illegal to have sex with pasty bullfrogs, he dragged me out of bed at 3 am to get online and search for exercise equipment.
After an hour of searching within our spatial and financial limitations, we decided on a Tony Little Gazelle Elite, and some Phenolox pills to regulate my appetite.
I want to work out, I do. But I don't have access to the car during the day, if the weather's crappy I don't want to go (crappy weather in Washington? NEVER!), and the fact remains that all the people at the gym are already skinny. I don't know where they went before they were skinny, but watching them maintain their skinnyness only made me feel like a bloated toad. With a home gym-thing, it eradicates the obstacle of working out in front of people. I don't need to be self-conscious while working on the self-improvement. The hub-unit said he'd go to the gym with me, but the motherfucker weighs 20 pounds LESS than me so he can go spit up a rope.
I'll be keeping track of my progress, because as god as my witness I will be a size 9 before flying to Florida for New Year's. Shit, a size 11 would make me happy.