AHomoKittenSaysWha???

Guess who got a new kitten today....

Give up? Don't care? Yes you do! This thing is prrrreeeccciouuss.

I adopted her from the Humane Society. She's 2 months old and still doesn't have a name. Help me out here. Think of something brilliant. Jesse already came up with "Clarence Thomas." It's the current frontrunner.

PICKSHERZ!

The Greatest Video Ever Made

Check check it, bitchezzz!!!



The Gods of Professional Responsibility were smiling down on our class today. Or maybe they were smiling up, since the God of Professional Responsibility is probably Satan.

Gah!

I'm watching Access Hollywood (AH) and my brain cells are depleting by the second. Before I die a slow and painful death -- I just remembered this -- a long long time before I could read, I used to bring my Dad the funny pages and insist that he read every single comic to me. I remember this from the time I was about three years old. That may be my oldest memory. I wonder if that's where I learned my sense of timing when it came to making funny. Indulge my egotistical tendencies here -- he was the first person I heard telling jokes on a daily basis, and he would make weird pauses before reading the very last frame of the comic. Yeah. I know. I should be asleep. Some quick notes from AH (that's "Access Hollywood" to you, squares)....

1. There's a controversy on Dancing with the Stars because people are concerned that Mario Lopez has had "special secret" dancing training in his past which he failed to disclose to the show. Yeah, AC. We've seen your bullshit on Saved by the Bell. Pleeeeeeeaaaaazzzze.

2. Anna Nicole Smith's "alleged" baby daddy was concerned about the pictures released right after her newest spawn was born and just hours before her old spawn died. "Their first photos of their family! AND ALSO THEIR LAST." {seriously quoted from AH} So her baby daddy claims that, in one of the last photos of Anna's son ever taken in the whole history of the world.... Dead Daniel was wearing a necklace BABY DADDY gave Anna before he impregnated her!!! So not only is the kid dead, he was dead wearing a woman's necklace given to her by a soul-sucking whoreboy with bleach-tipped hair.

3. Seriously, how can the hosts of these shows sleep at night? This is worse than anything a lawyer could be capable of. My chosen profession can't be this degrading... can it?

4. I think I might have a sensitivity to gluten. More to come on that. It's time to sleep.



Thanks for not being a pussy

Andy Rooney Time...

You know what I just realized? I know this is going to ruffle some feathers, but I must admit that:

Father of the Bride is an annoying, piece of shit movie.

Before today, I always thought that it was watchable on a Sunday afternoon while I was procrastinating doing my readings for Monday. How wrong I was. I've experienced a complete overload of the sappy moments where Steve Martin's Daddy Heart is breaking while his whore of a Kimberly Williams daughter is "growing up" (i.e. constantly throwing Bridezilla-style temper tantrums). That sickly little non-Macaulay member of the Culkin Klan is also flashing his puppy dog eyes at the camera every ten minutes. The circles under his eyes are startling. He looks malnourished. Add Diane Keaton with 80's mom hair and the movie becomes a recipe for disaster.

Someone save me!

B.D. Wong as the gay Asian wedding planner is giving me the willies.

A TGIF for the ages...

FOUND! French-tipped manicured Lee Press-On Nail. Possibly a thumb nail. Found abandoned on the sidewalk next to the Alumni Center. I didn't put it in my pocket, but I managed to get some pictures with my camera phone. It was a sight to behold. You want it back? Too bad. I fed it to a squirrel.

Lizzie McGuire-style Middle School Picture Day!!!

Tiptoe down to the lonely places

Jolly good day, friends and neighbors!

Have you ventured outside on this fine Thursday afternoon? It's gorgeous. Once again. If only it was 20 degrees cooler -- I wouldn't need to burden my moms with all of this laundry.

I talked to Paul today and it looks like I'll be making a brief, but spectacular return to the world of restaurant service on Saturday and Wednesday night. Classy's needs me. I'm there for them. Oh yes. I'm totally there. I asked him what they wanted me to wear when I served. He told me "something that looks nice, but not... y'know." Slutty. Apparently my love of spandex tube tops won't cut it anymore. Am I wrong to argue that Columbia needs more scantily clad servers? Hooters and Show-Me's are fine, but Classy's needs to join the titty waitress bandwagon.

Speaking of people leering at me while I shake my stuff, I was sitting around the Artisan on Tuesday. Minding my own business. Knitting up a storm. When a stranger approaches me and asks if he can take my picture while I knit. No joke. Justin Giles witnessed it. What would you have done? I contemplated the creepy nature of his request for a minute, then said "yes" and continued what I was doing (namely trying to unwind a ball of yarn from another ball of yarn). He started lining up the shot and said to me "No, I need to see you really knit!" He got a few pictures. I don't know who he was. So if you frequent any knitting fetish sites on the webz, let me know if you see me. I thought my scarf was pretty unjackable, but I could be wrong...

ACS meeting. Tonight. 6pm. Shakespeare's. You should come. We're buying a couple of pizzas with our leftover money from last year. Minotaur is going to knock the socks off the new batch of students. Actually, I just gave away Step 1 in his ultimate 1L seduction plan.

Serious question time:

1) How much money would you pay to sleep with the dreamiest man in Hollywood -- Peter Sarsgaard? I think $300 is all I could manage, but only because I would be paying him in student loans. He made an appearance in my dream world last night. It was a good night for dreaming.

2) If you only feel compelled to blog when you're frustrated and/or unhappy, should you include a disclaimer at the top of your blog alerting people to the fact that you're not really an asshole?

3) Why did I take 71 pictures of myself as I was getting ready to go to school today? No need to answer. It's because I'm so damned cute.



Look out Myspace, Mama's got some fresh mug shots to upload...

I'm the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains

Paragraphs escape me right now. My life in list form:

1) Custom Muffler quoted me $4,000 to rebuild my transmission. I told Jon their quote. He simultaneously balked and scoffed so hard that his brain exploded out the back of his head. When the brain goo was cleaned off my wall, he recommended Privitt Auto Service on Sexton Rd. Good move. They also balked and scoffed at Custom's price and are currently fixing up my transmission (and speedometer! wooot!) for $2,300. Still high, but much better than $4,000. Fuckin' Custom. Seriously, don't go there if you can avoid it.

2) I just went to the Better Business Bureau's website and filed a complaint against Custom Muffler. In writing up my comment, I listed my age as 23 for some reason. I've been 24 since December. I should know that by now.

3) This morning at 7:30, I woke up from a dead sleep to blood-curdling screams. I thought someone was getting raped outside my window or getting murdered in the street below. No such luck. You want to know what it was? MY FUCKING NEIGHBORS ACROSS THE STREET. HAVING A PARTY AT 7:30 IN THE MORNING. IN THEIR FRONT YARD. The screaming and drunken chanting continued until... well.. they're still out there right now. At 4:40pm. Although now half of them are either passed out on the lawn or asleep on the couch. Yes, in the front yard. They managed to drag a couch out into the middle of their lawn. Fuckin' kids. 19 year olds give me a headache.

4) Speaking of, I was getting my hurr did yesterday at the Strand. I mentioned to Carla that I watched a video of myself when I was 19 and apologized to her for insisting on keeping those hideous bangs of mine. We both had a moment of existential crisis when we realized that I've been her client for six years now. SIX YEARS. I'm getting old. At least Carla has kickass purple hair at the moment. Have you seen it? She's the greatest. To lessen the blow, she sassed mine up, too! Fire engine red chunks, muthafuckas! I know you secretly love it.

5) My parents are going camping tonight for the first time ever (no joke! We were people of the suburbs). They're going to get drunk with their Republican friends and sleep in their mini-van. I'll be expecting a whiny phone call around... midnight? Yeah. I'm thinking midnight. Good luck, suckers!

6) I'm finally going to see Little Miss Sunshine tonight. Hopefully. Call me if you want to go with us. It's going to be a ragtag group of mercenary soldiers and Catholic missionaries, so you'll surely fit in.

7) Lazy Saturday indeed. No photos. No links. Just straight shit talkin'

An Open Letter to the Rat Bastard Who Stole My Shit

Dearest Thief,

Yesterday, I basked in the glow of my brand new carrel. Carrel #51. Check the map, asshole. I folded up the Tuesday edition of the New York Times and placed it on the shelf above my desk. Oh, how I longed to tackle the Tuesday Crossword Puzzle. How I longed for it! Alas, I was forced to toil over Remedies & Bus Orgs for hours upon hours.

When I left for class at 2pm, I waved goodbye to my newspaper on the shelf. I think it waved back. It knew I would fuck the shit out of that crossword puzzle upon my return and it couldn't be happier. I also had some junk mail sitting on top of the paper that I got out of my school mailbox and was going to throw away eventually, but I digress.

This morning, I trotted into the liberry to happily complete the puzzle I had been dreaming about all night, when I discovered that you sir (or madame) had STOLEN MY NEWSPAPER (and my junk mail -- SUCKER!).

One simple question for YOU, dear thief: Why? Why take my paper and leave the tempting pad of pink Post-It notes that were sitting next to it? What pleasure did you derive from absconding with the only thing that I love in this world more than TURKEY LEGS and anal fisting? Did you simply rip the crossword puzzle out of the pages and discard the news-filled shell that remained? Did you read the entire paper? Do you even know how to read? Or did you simply use it to line the cage where you sleep at night, you filthy fucking animal....

Rest assured, I will hunt you down like a dog and murder you in the streets of Columbia. I know who you are. You have the ink of guilt and shame splashed across your mongrel hands.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Yours truly,

Lady J Bonham
Carrel #51 Occupant
Tuesday NYTimes Crossword Puzzle Lover
Trained Killer

Sometimes you're crazy then you wonder why. I'm such a baby 'cause the klarbrunns make me cry.

Sittin around sittin around... My car is at Custom Muffler right now.

Possibilities:

-- The transmission might be shot.

-- Or it could just be a coolant leak.

-- Or it could just be the fact that I sometimes get under the hood and hit the engine with a hammer until fluids come oozing out.

Who knows!?!

As you may well have guessed, I once again jinxed the Cardinals to a devastating loss on Tuesday. Minotaur is skilled at predicting these things. While the game was a wash, I was able to score a gigantic BBQed TURKEY LEG. The last one I ate was in high school on our senior trip to Six Flags. Until Tuesday, I only thought you could get them at Six Flags. How deliciously wrong I was! Best damned TURKEY LEG I've had in years. The new Busch Stadium may have crushed my childhood memories, but at least they provided me with a $5 TURKEY LEG to make up for it.

Oh snap! Did you hear that I'm now hooked up with internetz AND digital cable AND free HBO [for 2 months, at least]? How did I manage to finagle my way into free HBO? Charm and sass. Also I think they have a deal going on right now. Regardless, I've got HBO on Demand for awhile. If any of you bitches want to come over and have a marathon viewing of Dane Cook's Tourgasm, you're welcome to it. Of course I won't be here because Dane Cook makes me want to pull my hair out. I need to see more self-loathing and less Weird-Al-but-I'm-a-charming-date-rapist schlock if you're going to impress me, Dane. I know. I know. America loves you. The most popular man on MySpace! Damn that Dane Cook!

What are you doing for Labor Day? If it involves TURKEY LEGS or massive consumption of alcohol, count me in.

Time to watch this fancy cable of mine and figure out what that smell is.


someday you'll see me on Richard Bey
for stalking the girls of Melrose Place