i have the cape. i make the fucking whoosh noises!

b.l.o.g.

they’re trying to kill my daddy! this is not to say that i condone whatever tyrannical reign saddam hussein had — especially considering the present tyrannical reign the US is under — it’s just that the resemblance is so striking, and honestly, the images in the media do not proclaim “murderous, tyrannical, fierce dictator”…rather, they say “daddy!” seriously, in this picture he looks just.like.my.daddy. for reals, yo. although daddy’s hair is not as foufy and he doesn’t quite have a beard. my daddy still looks like “height-of-his-dictatorial-career-saddam”, but in daddy-form. even more mind-boggling:

Saddam, 68, has been jailed under American control at a U.S. military detention complex near Baghdad airport.

he is merely 3 years older than my daddy. whoa…and they look alike! (and this is most likely what’s going to get me fired from New Swanky Job, but i can’t help it!)

saddam likes doritoes.

that.is.all.

comments : nada mucho
mine :

[insert high pitched squealing here]
7.13.05 at 7:33 pm

category : amuserings & musings

oh.my.god.

I COVET THIS TSHIRT! it was practically fucking MADE FOR ME!!!

comments : nada mucho
mine :

sexual dysfunction quartet
at 7:09 pm

category : books, whatnot

from irvine welsh’s the acid house:

A GOOD SON
He was a good son, and like all good sons, he really loved his mother. In fact, he completely worshipped the woman.
Yet he couldn’t make love to her; not with his father sitting there, watching them.
He got out of bed and threw a dressing-gown around his self-conscious nakedness. As he passed his father on the way out of the room, he heard the old man say: Aye Oedipus, yir a complex fucker right enough.

THE CRUEL BASTARD AND THE SELFISH FUCKER GET IT ON
She was a cruel bastard; he was a selfish fucker. They literally bumped into each other one night in a Grassmarket pub. They were vaguely acquainted from somewhere neither could remember. Or at least that was what they told themselves and eachother.
She was highly insulting, but he didn’t mind as he was indiffereint to everything except the eighty shilling he was tipping down his throat. They decided to go back to her place for a shag. He didn’t have a place of his own; as his parents did everything for him, he saw little point in getting one.
Sitting up in bed, she watched him undressing. Her face hardened in a contemptuous scowl as he removed his purple boxer-shorts â€” Who dae ye expect tae satisfy wi that? she asked
â€” Masel, he said, getting into bed beside her.
After the event, she bitterly disparaged his performance with a vitriol which would have torn the fragile sexual ego of most men to shreds. He scarcely heard a word she said. His final thoughts as he drifted into a drunken sleep were concerned with breakfast. He hoped she had plenty of provisions in and that she made a good fry-up.
Within a few weeks they were living together. People say it seems to be working out.

LOTS OF LAUGHTER AND SEX
You said, when we embarked on this great adventure together, that lots of laughter was essential in a relationship.
I agreed.
You also made the point that a great deal of sex was of equal importance.
Again, I agreed. Wholeheartedly.
In fact I remember your exact words: laugher and sex are the barometers of a relationship. This was the statement you made, if I remember correctly.
Don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t agree more. But not at the same time, ya fuckin’ cow.

ROBERT K. LAIRD: A SEXUAL HISTORY
Rab’s nivir hud a ride in ehs puff; perr wee cunt. Disnae seem too bothered, mind you.

Read the rest of this entry »

comments : nada mucho
mine :

like a fish
7.12.05 at 7:12 pm

category : filler

after confirming that yes, i do, in fact, drink rum as if it were water, and finishing off a bottle with the boy in one mere evening…as well as fantasizing about intravenous drinking, i’ve decided to amuserate myself with mindless alcohol-related filler. weee!

(read: i am killing time till i go to the gym/have to do more updates to spiffify the midgetblog)

Your Leo Drinking Style

You love to drink and dance — you’re likely a fabulous dancer. You’re usually pretty a good drinker as well, losing your commanding dignity and turning kittenish. Of course, you’re quite aware you’re darling — Leos will be Leos, after all. You generally know your limit, probably because you loathe losing self-control.

When you get over-refreshed, flirting will ensue — and perhaps not with the person what brought you. But you are not the type to break rules even when drunk, so others try to ignore your naughty behavior. You’ll just make up for it with a sheepish (and hung over) apology the next day.

Your Signature Cocktails

Leos like flashy drinks, be they complicated tropical concoctions festooned with umbrellas, like a Bahama mama or the more common strawberry daiquiri or mai tai. Indeed, you often have a taste for the fruity — try a screwdriver, or add an extra cherry to the next Manhattan. Your sense of drama lends itself to a kir royale, of course.

Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies

Edward Norton, Bill Clinton, Madonna, Debra Messing, Martha Stewart, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Christian Slater, and Fred Durst.

What’s Your Alcohoroscope?

reality: his is so silly. i do not flirt when drunk…i drink more! also, i don’t let people buy me drinks (it’s a rare…rare thing if i let you) and i’m an absolutely bloody shitty dancer. also, is scotch a flashy drink? rum straight from the bottle? jd & coke, can that be a “concoction”? and i’m only paying attention to edward norton — who i love — because EW.

comments : nada mucho
mine :

she’s baaaaack
at 5:59 pm

category : glee

my midget is back. oh frabjous day! how in the hell that girl lived for so long without the innernets, i’ll never know. but now i have another project. weee!!! time to make the midgetblog purty & whatnot.

comments : nada mucho
mine :

…to fall…
at 1:23 am

category : scribblings

plummeting, crashing, coasting, gliding, diving, slipping, plunging, tumbling, sliding…bracing, racing, terror, anticipation, excitement, confusion, apprehension, fusion. precarious downfall, delicious salvation — contradiction. precarious security swallowed in uncertainty. the unknown. complex anxiety. freedom immobilized by “what if”s. what if what if what if…why? complexity. to feel, to savor, to relish, to breathe, to taste, to touch, to see, to live…to fall… am falling, is falling, has been falling, will fall, has fallen… can’t stop? won’t stop? don’t want to stop? i don’t know, i don’t know, i don’t know…

i don’t know…

i don’t?

no…

comments : nada mucho
mine :

me vs. my ass
7.11.05 at 7:22 pm

category : bitchery, sporty

going back to the gym tonight after too much over a week off. although, i couldn’t by any stretch of the imagination in good conscience abandon my baby brother for 1 or 2 hours at the gym. and it’s not necessarily cut out for children, so…yeah…but i must return. and hit it harder than ever before. because 1.) all i have to do is look at something edible and it’s like i grow a whole ‘nother ass 2.) i’d rather not have my own zip code 3.) the massively huge woman causing a traffic jam in the kenmore station stairwell is not something i aspire to some day be — though i’m horribly worried it could happen.

that said, i’m off.

comments : nada mucho
mine :

d.u.m.p.s.t.e.r.

archive for July, 2005

oh noes! saddam!

Thursday, July 14th, 2005

posted in teh wurld | No Comments »

[insert high pitched squealing here]

Wednesday, July 13th, 2005

oh.my.god. I COVET THIS TSHIRT! it was practically fucking MADE FOR ME!!!

posted in amuserings & musings | No Comments »

sexual dysfunction quartet

Wednesday, July 13th, 2005

from irvine welsh’s the acid house: A GOOD SON He was a good son, and like all good sons, he really loved his mother. In fact, he completely worshipped the woman. Yet he couldn’t make love to her; not with his father sitting there, watching them. He got out of bed and threw a dressing-gown […]

posted in books, whatnot | No Comments »

like a fish

Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

posted in filler | No Comments »

she’s baaaaack

Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

posted in glee | No Comments »

…to fall…

Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

plummeting, crashing, coasting, gliding, diving, slipping, plunging, tumbling, sliding…bracing, racing, terror, anticipation, excitement, confusion, apprehension, fusion. precarious downfall, delicious salvation — contradiction. precarious security swallowed in uncertainty. the unknown. complex anxiety. freedom immobilized by “what if”s. what if what if what if…why? complexity. to feel, to savor, to relish, to breathe, to taste, to touch, […]

posted in scribblings | No Comments »

me vs. my ass

Monday, July 11th, 2005

posted in bitchery, sporty | No Comments »

c.a.t.e.g.o.r.i.e.s.

b.i.t.s. & p.i.e.c.e.s.

July 2005
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l.i.n.k.i.e.s.

Menu 6

archive for July, 2005

oh noes! saddam!

[insert high pitched squealing here]

sexual dysfunction quartet

like a fish

she’s baaaaack

…to fall…

me vs. my ass

timesucks

web comix

eargasmic