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I once again fell asleep before 10 pm last night. Yes, my real name is Edna and I wear knee highs. Would you like a butterscotch?
My retired father watches The O.C. every afternoon. Sigh. Probably for the articles.
Fluffy lady in airport is reading a Bingo how-to book. (?) Dying to enthusiastically yell at her that we're at gate B12! B12!
Last night's glitter & eyeshadow have been fighting for artistic dominance on my pillowcase. I just added the dust of 1000 cheesy poofs.
It's only a little after noon & I've already had two breakfasts, coffee ice cream & a bubble bath. Kiss me again, Sunday.
There are 112 white tiles on my bathroom floor. One of them has a brown old-age spot.
(Food Poisoning Weekend '09 was very productive.)
Sassy little girly in grocery store as she stares at my rotisserie chicken: "hey lady, I LOVE your chicken purse!"
What do you do when you realize you need someone that you've never needed before? Eat a king-sized Snickers bar, of course.
The Andy Griffith whistle theme takes me from happy to stabby in under 7 seconds.
Playing a game today wherein I start every sentence with "Methinks." I'm wearing on my own sparkly nerves.
We're all little wild thang monsters battling sadnesses, breaking things, & looking for forts full of chocolate cake.
Elderly mechanic with two missing teeth just walked by singing "Boom Boom Pow." I might love him.
Going to start every work email sent today with "Once upon a time . . . ."
Admission: weak personalities annoy me 'cause I never had the luxury of being whiny & catered to. Please grow a set, preferably glittered.
Method holiday cinnamon bark handsoap smells like a man should taste. That is all.
This skirt isn't a track suit, but I'm still gonna have a Sue Sylvester kind of day & create an environment of irrational, random terror.
No, "get out of my office, you sloppy twat" does not mean "plop down, smack your gum, and misuse simple vocabulary words." [kind smile]
I like it when Ms. Stringyhair McMullet condescendingly smoothes a wayward curl on my forehead. Really?
Saw the sun rise on an eeearly train to NYC for the day. Someone smells like asparagus & hallways.
I want to live in a house made of pancakes with strawberry syrup ceilings and butter pat windows.
Glitter. Showtunes. Snark. I like fancy cheeses & peacockian, Prufrockian bioluminescence. O, & wit.