Friday, November 11, 2005


*that I did not want

A hole in the crotch of my pants.
This e-card. Horrifying. Just...horrifying.
Hearing a helium-enhanced rendition of "The Lollipop Guild" by grown-assed men. Almost as bad.
Lack of even pity sex due to crotch malfunction.
Lots o' dead lobsters & crunchy crabs on the beach (otters?)
A rang for mah fanger. Plastic. Gots it out of that thar vendin' macchhine. Dang it, I wonted a pank one, (or a whoorrange one), but dis one, it's bluuue.
A turd.
Another turd.
Wow. Yet another turd.
Jeez. Thanks, cats-!
A giant birthday zit.
Beaned in the boob by a Nerf™ product.
Swatted in the boob w/ claws, by a giant cat.
Sh*t, my boobs just stick out too far.
Sexual harassment. Documented. In three forms. On my card from work.
Getting up close and personal with a horse vagina.
Seeing a possibly dead guy lying in the street while a very blasé construction worker unhurriedly put one orange cone by his head. Nice. I hate L.A.
Gay love. StoOpid gay beach.

Things I actually needed:
Pizza Rosa.
To eat an entire sack of Munchos brand potato crud.
A microdermabrasion kit.
Lime raspberry mousse thing in take-out carton from Beverly Hills Hotel. Like a Happy Meal, except $$$er.
Chocolate cheesecake butter brickle ice cream cake - wtf? accompanied by NO SINGING. I hate the !@#$ birthday song. I will leave the restaurant if pressed.
A gift certificate from Southwest.com (Thank you, Cranky)
Green horse spit in hair (thank you, Cranky)
Lush products, most of which look like a lump of poo. HoOray!
A Forest Lawn Funeral Home 2006 calendar.
About two dozen little lipstick-kiss shaped temporary tattoos that say "Frank's Red Hot Lover" which I look forward to adhering all over some unsuspecting sleeping guy's arse and forehead. Preferably a homophobe's.
An ass-flasher. I actually needed a new ass-flasher (for my bike, so that at night, I don't get hit because people think I am a bus.) Thanks for the ass-flasher, Timply.
Horse apples.



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