I swear I’m not doing this one on purpose.
Every-God-damned-time I get the energy to start writing on a regular basis something else happens and I’m out of contact with a computer for a stupid amount of time.
I’ll have a regular connection back again soon…. I hope.
I would love, more then anything, to be sitting here uploading pictures to show you what I’ve been up to this summer.
Alas, I am not able to because someone has moved the plastic box of randomness that contains the cord to link my camera to my computer. As it’s not as fun to sit here and describe things I’m going to have to wait. Sorry.
I can say this, and I know I’ve said it before but I mean it for real this time… I’m back. I figured today was a good day to make my comeback because it’s the first day of fall. My summer is over and I’ve got to get back to real life.
If only I could find the damn cord for my camera.
The truth is……
Liquor is quicker.
I don’t know how else to say it…
Candy is dandy….. Liquor IS quicker IS quicker.
My hiatus is near an end. I will be back next week on a schedule.
Hummus does not make a good substitute for cream cheese on your bagel in the morning.
- Lesson learned: 7:48 am
I got married last night. Twice. The first guy was amazing. Good looking, rich, tall. I do love my tall boys. However, his family didn’t really approve of the marriage. They are rich and I am not. So, they don’t like me. They didn’t think I was going to be able to put together a nice wedding with nice dresses. They figured it was going to be something more West Virginia.
I had beautiful red dresses picked out for my bridesmaids, Paris, Niki and Nichole. I had a fantastic white dress with red trim for myself. We were all in line and ready to walk down the isle with my Daddy giving me away. As soon as my bridesmaids started walking their dresses turned into blue t-shirts and blue skirts that didn’t match. I watched them all go to the alter in horror. When I started walking my dress turned into cut-offs and a dirty wife-beater with mustard stains. Awesome.
Once I got to the alter I had to decide if I wanted to stop the wedding and go change or if I should just go through the ceremony wearing my white-trash outfit. I figured the ceremony was what was more important so I got married in my wife-beating uniform much to the dismay of my parents-in-law.
There was no reception. Just a honeymoon. And it was awesome. No consummating the marriage. Just a good time.
A little while later, my husband and I were visited by our good friend, Jon Stewart. Jon told me that I had made a mistake and I should have married him instead. My husband agreed so he transferred the title, so to speak, and I become Jon Stewart’s wife.
About the same time I was introduced to a secret society that ranked the sons of the rich. There were 2000 men on the list. As a wife of one of them and ex-wife to another, I was entitled to know where they both ranked. Two beautiful women came forward both wearing white shirts and holding pink pieces of paper in front of them. The lowered their pieces of paper reveling pure white shirts. Then the lights went out and a black light came on. The shirts glowed in the black light. My ex husband was ranked 5 out of 2000. My current husband, Jon Stewart, ranked 1 out of 2000.
One of the stipulations of being shown your husband’s ranking is that you’re not allowed to tell him where he falls on the list. When Jon came to pick me up it was the only thing on my mind. I have the best husband of all the rich people ever! I told him that I really wanted to tell him but I was not able to. Being the awesome husband that Jon Stewart is, he told me that his ranking didn’t matter because he had the best wife ever. He then grabbed my hand and gently rubbed thumb over the back of it, even over to my thumb and the ugly-ass wart that I’ve had for over 5 years that I’m trying to slowly burn off. He ever loves my nasty warted hands.
I still wasn’t satisfied with my husband not knowing where he ranked. I went with him to his work and he held my hand the entire time just so people would know we were together. He let me borrow his car because I had “errands” to run. I drove to the secured Army base to steal the t-shirts that had the rankings on them. They tried to stop me at the gate but I only had to tell them who my husband was and they let me through without any proof of ID.
I sneaked into the closet where the shirts were and when I turned around my ex-husband was standing with my current husband. I gave my ex-husband his shirt with a hug and “I still love you,” whispered in his ear. As I gave Jon Stewart his shirt he looked at me with his doe eyes and said, “I lo……”
Then I woke up.
I’m sorry but I’m taking a hiatus. I’ll be back in a couple weeks.
And, I am SO ready!
For examples all you need to do is read the below e-mails to me.
Aloha Walter,
We would like to remind you that you have a tragus piercing on Thursday, May 15, 2008 at 2:00PM.
We are looking forward to seeing you. Hope you are having an amazing day in paradise!!
Mahalo from Tattoolicious.
Aloha Walter,
We would like to remind you that you have a tattoo on Thursday, May 15, 2008 at 2:30PM.
We are looking forward to seeing you. Hope you are having an amazing day in paradise!!
Mahalo from Tattoolicious.
This entire article kind of gave me angina. I’m super cereal about this one.
When did it become the woman’s job to be the emotional one?
At what point did it become not O.K. for men to show their emotional/human side.
Without meaning any offense, and please take my word for that, my parents would say it’s because they grew up in a different time.
This is the problem I have with that is the feminist revolution that seems “cute” to the patriarchal society I live in. The sexual revolution has been going in since before I was born and yet it seems like little progress has been made. This revolution still seems to be ignored by ::::grrrrr::: corporate America. And the people who tell me they’re upset by the biased don’t do anything about it. The ones that grew up in a different time are the ones that teach their children that women are the “weaker” sex.
It’s killing me and holding me back whether or not the patriarch’s realize it or not.
I need to know why we have these gender boundary issues.
This world and it’s people are here to adapt and move on with unconditional love. And, it’s just not happening.
People are so afraid of disappointing their parents/family/friends/peers that they won’t be themselves.
I think this will be the fatal flaw of man-kind.
This message brought to you by wine and watching Juno.
I’ve had it with Japanese tourists. Seriously. I’m going to lose my shit if one more bothers me.
I almost hit one with my car on accident yesterday. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. She jumped out in front of my car while I was trying to turn right on a red on my way to work. Thing is, I had the right of way in actuality. Technically she did because she was a pedestrian. Morally? I should have run her the hell over. She had the little red hand telling her not to cross the street. She did it anyway.
Another time, while driving in my car with Lindsay, I almost hit one on a bike. Again, not on purpose. She was in the middle of the right lane of a 4 lane road and I was coming up in the left lane. WITHOUT LOOKING she cut over to the other side of the street causing me to slam my brakes on and smoosh the very yummy muffin I had just bought from Starbucks into my steering wheel. I didn’t hit her, I should have though. I should have just slammed the gas and ran her and her bike over, but I didn’t.
When I was 5 my parents took my sister and I to the Smithsonian. I remember standing in the Air and Space museum looking at the recreation of the moon landing. Suddenly, I was grabbed by 1000 tourists and turned around. I tried to run to my Mom and Dad but they held me there and made me take a picture with them. I would actually pay to see that picture now. I’m sure it’s a pretty funny picture of 1000 tourists and a terrified little white girl who may or may not have peed her pants a little.
This morning was the straw that broke my proverbial camel’s back. I took Betsy out for her morning walk with her vest on. She’s been doing really well lately making the distinction between working while the vest is on and having fun while it’s off. We were walking at the tree line where we usually do when all of the sudden she was TORMENTED by three Japanese White-Eye’s. Betsy lost all composure and tried to chase them. For that I had to punish her. By punish I mean I flipped her on her back to let her know I’m still alpha and she needs to listen to me.
I tried to keep walking and those little birdy bastards followed us. They would swoop down from the trees and land in front of Betsy and hop just out of her reach. She still has her vest on at this point so I had to punish her again for not listening to me. I finally decided that I had had enough and walked away from the tree line. We walked around the park for a little while and Betsy did her business.
As we started walking home I went back to the tree line and low and behold guess who came back to mess with her? Those little green assholes came back and started doing the same thing. That’s when I started to lose my shit.
I made Betsy sit so I could take her leash and vest off. I waited until one was right in front of her and gave her the command to go. Oh the fun that was had. She spent the next 10 minutes chasing those little fuckers around the park and into trees and stalking them. Once I thought they had had enough I called her back to me and made her sit so I could put her leash back on. Not 30 seconds passed and those jerks came back. I didn’t even have the leash on her and they came back. So I had to let her get them again. She didn’t eat any of them she just wanted to chase them.
These birds are not native to Hawaii. They’re tourists. They’re tourists that like to torture my dog.
Holy shit, I can’t wait to leave this island.
Are you kidding me?
Did the entire world get together and agree to try to give me a stroke? Did the universe decide that things have been going too well in my life and now they’re trying to make up for it like monkeys like to fling poo?
Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, as in two of the assholes from The Hills, were invited to the Annual White House Correspondant’s Dinner this year. Not by one coorporation, but by two.
And lo and behold, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt were in attendance too. They had been invited by msnbc.com, but backed out when their lengthy demands couldn’t be met under the auspices of a “scheduling conflict.” The conflict apparently disappeared though. Fortune magazine shelled out and brought the couple east to the dinner. They did have an awkward run-in during the Capitol File after party at the Newseum, though.
About 45 minutes before their arrival, arch enemy Lauren Conrad entered the party and was in the VIP area when Montag and Pratt arrived. The scene was awkward at best, and Pratt was overheard saying that he was glad to be there after “being stuck at a three-hour dinner.” (Note to Pratt: It is poor form to describe a dinner presided over by the president and vice president as one at which you were stuck.)
Full article here (under the story about Miley Cyrus, her father the Pimp, and child pornography).
Most of the other attendees listed I can see (save Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz.) They are well known actors or people that have actually had involvement in the media relating to the White House.
Was the guest list for these two companies really that awful?
Was there not a respectable journalist among either of them?
What does it tell you that MSNBC.com or Fortune Magazine can’t find a better journalist to attend? What does that do to your confidence in both of those “respected” news outlets?
What about people at Orato.com or any of the other fanastic non-network represented news outlets? So what if it’s a Canadian based company? I would rather have Canadians then two dip-shits “…born to privilege and squandering their every advantage on vapid and vain pursuits,” (Mayrav Saar,E Online), that probably haven’t seen or read the news, ever.
And you wonder why I drink.
I make this promise to you now. If Kim Kardashian ever gets invited, I am moving to New Zealand.
Dear Kim Kardashian,
Yes. I did mean to offend you.
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