Playas and players.

you know the kind.

Thinks his shit don't stink, he's God's gift to all humanity, the cure for every incurable disease, and still down enough to use offensive terms such as "Mama" and "Cracker" like they're the lose change in the bottom of a homeless man's mug.

I know a couple of these types. I'm beginning to think that they're not just a breed, but a race in and of themselves. Because, really...they can do no wrong, and (silly you didn't you know?) every female that comes within 10 meters of them can't help but not jump their bones on the spot.

And then there's an entirely different type of player, one that I love. I'm speaking of the non human, ego-free, purely mechanical and digitally enhanced music players. Nifty little buggers, I tell ya. Truly help me hone into whatever mood I'm teetering on the edge of.

Take tonight, for instance. Was in an uber silly mood earlier. And then...a wave of blinding lights washed over me like that horrendous tidal wave at the end of the that Perfect Storm movie. Once recovered, I had the migraine from hell. So I took a special cocktail of this, that, and some vicodin. Within minutes I swear the angels sang a rousing chorus of "Hallelujah" as the clouds parted and allowed the sun to shine it's warmth and ... oh hell. Who am I kidding? There's no sun. For two reasons.

1) It's 11:30 at night. There's no sun at this hour, I don't live in Alaska. Which leads me to the next reason.
B) ... I live in Oregon. Where the sun don't shine for 9 months out of the year, and if you were to compare the locals to Casper, he'd win in the "best tan" category. Where the trees have so much moss on them that it looks like an old man's beard. Just...green. Eww...the visual.

So anyways, tonight's playlist is a medly of music, ranging from Heavy Metal, to Avril Lavigne, to Rancid, to Kid Rock, and a little old skill Beastie boys. It's helped me go from bitchy and pissy straight to rocking and rolling.

Those are the kind of players I like.

amazing person of the year award...

Goes to this guy that has my heart. He puts up with so much shit from me.
Just an fyi to all you ladies who think your guy gets the award.

You're wrong. they don't.
Mine does.

Isn't it weird for you?

Cause it is for me, yo.

I seriously hate that question. No, my situation is perfectly fucking peachy, thanks. I love that I live with my very soon to be ex husband. I love that the one person I want to be with lives 13 thousand fucking miles away. I love that my closest friend is 2 hours away. I love that I have no friends nearby. I love drinking alone.

Oh my fucking Gawd. What the hell do you think?!

oh and one more thing...

to you...person who's an amazingly awesome ray of
everything good in my life.



Peanutbutter and cheese.
I"m not emo...I just cry alot.

what the eff is wrong with me?

I've got something good going on in my life.
So good.
And yet, I suck. lol

To the good thing, you know who you are...
You are so good for me.
Thank you.
You are my favorite dork.

<3

Good ol' fashioned what?

Watched an old episode of Friends. Man I missed those people. It was the episode about the shark porn. And the episode ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Monica & Chandler. I really don't know if anyone else will find the hilarity in this conversation, but as for me? It's there. Ass slapping, mind numbing, in-your-face hilariosity. If that's even a word.


You know...I"m too tired to write out the conversation, and too damn lazy to look it up.
Just know that it was all about porn.
And sharks.
And ended with:
"No honey. It was just good ol' fashioned girl on girl action!"
"Oh my god. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that!"

Yeah. I giggled.

peace.

Because I like to procrastinate

This here will forever be my first post under this blog. The next one with be the second, and then the third, and so on and so forth.

I am the queen of pointing out the obvious.
I am sarcastic and bitchy at times.
Sweet and caring most of the time.
I have a dry humor, but I am not British. Unfortunately.
I am American and I say things wrong.
Like Banana.
I spell things wrong, too.
Like Tire.
I'm learning German.
But, for the most part, can only say naughty things.
My mind likes to roll around in the much & mire of the gutter.
I can take the simplest of sentences and turn it into something dirty.
I gossip, though I hate that about me.
I do not smoke.


Well, except the crack that the pool boy, Jorge, left for me after our late night romp in the sack out in the veranda late one night last July.

Okay that never happened. But it was fun to write.

So that's a very small description of me.
I really don't have time for this, but what the hell.
What's one more thing to occupy my mind, right?