“Don’t sound too good; it sounds ‘Tainted’ to me.”
By a show of hands, how many of y’all would be surprised if I were to say that I’m not in a good gotdamn mood right now? Nobody? Okay…now, by that same show of hands, how many of y’all wouldn’t be surprised at all?
Damn, don’t everyone raise your hands at once!
Sheesh.
I’ve been cleanin’ all gotdang weekend and it’s hot as grits on Al Green in the upstairs rooms of my house. I’ve got a ginormous see: Rihanna’s twelve point nine head headache brought on by The Chromosonal Donors innate sense of idiotic inanity. My mp3 player, in between annoyingly frequent spaz outs, has been playing songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named. The very fact that HWMNBN is on my mind right now saddens and annoys me, as does the fact that I have my own personal Lord Voldermort out this bish.
Hmm; what else…
For reasons that are still unknown to me, I’ve been locked out of my main Twitter account and have been forced to use my backup. Twitter and their effing “support” team are making me jump through hoops to get my password changed and with every support ticket and request for a password change that I file, I get more and more aggravated. If they keep up the bullshxt, I’ll be forced to switch my social networking allegiance to FaceBook or even *gulp* MySpace. Didn’t take Kat Stacks this long to get her ish back. Within hours she was back to spreading venereal disease and hearing AIDS with her cackle on the Interwebnets and I can’t get a simple password change request answered?!
Bullnonsense.
I just had a slight wardrobe malfunction and my creepy neighbor witnessed it. Ewww.Dad Sperm won’t get the eff outta my house and hearing Mom Egg fawn over him makes me want to blow gooey pink and yellow chunks. All. Over. Them.
Twice.
Oh yeah. I sorta kinda almost but really do miss The Young One too. Just a little bit…
lol, aight, my rant and the breeze that’s comin’ through my window made me feel just a tad bit better. I’m gonna turn the volume on my Sony all the way up to 30 and, despite my throbbing headache, plug in my Sharper Image headphones, go downstairs and find somethin’ to eat. So uh, yeah. Until I feel the need to rant and/or rave again, I’m out.
♥
Damn, don’t everyone raise your hands at once!
Sheesh.
I’ve been cleanin’ all gotdang weekend and it’s hot as grits on Al Green in the upstairs rooms of my house. I’ve got a ginormous see: Rihanna’s twelve point nine head headache brought on by The Chromosonal Donors innate sense of idiotic inanity. My mp3 player, in between annoyingly frequent spaz outs, has been playing songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named. The very fact that HWMNBN is on my mind right now saddens and annoys me, as does the fact that I have my own personal Lord Voldermort out this bish.
Hmm; what else…
For reasons that are still unknown to me, I’ve been locked out of my main Twitter account and have been forced to use my backup. Twitter and their effing “support” team are making me jump through hoops to get my password changed and with every support ticket and request for a password change that I file, I get more and more aggravated. If they keep up the bullshxt, I’ll be forced to switch my social networking allegiance to FaceBook or even *gulp* MySpace. Didn’t take Kat Stacks this long to get her ish back. Within hours she was back to spreading venereal disease and hearing AIDS with her cackle on the Interwebnets and I can’t get a simple password change request answered?!
Bullnonsense.
I just had a slight wardrobe malfunction and my creepy neighbor witnessed it. Ewww.
Twice.
Oh yeah. I sorta kinda almost but really do miss The Young One too. Just a little bit…
lol, aight, my rant and the breeze that’s comin’ through my window made me feel just a tad bit better. I’m gonna turn the volume on my Sony all the way up to 30 and, despite my throbbing headache, plug in my Sharper Image headphones, go downstairs and find somethin’ to eat. So uh, yeah. Until I feel the need to rant and/or rave again, I’m out.
♥
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