Yay for being a trainwreck. I’m a trainwreck, you’re a trainwreck, we’re a trainwreck all. Isn’t that why most people start a personal blog? Because they’ve got some shit to work out? It’s just ssooooo nice that you can count on the good people of the interweb to hunt you down and point your carnage out to every troll that strolls by. Ew, I’m rhyming.

While I’m here, I forgot an awesome blogger in my acknowledgement. Leah Peah interviews other bloggers, among other things. Excellent reading.

Now I forget what I came here to write. It’ll come back to me. Off to myspace, and then to BigBox to get a digital camera. YAY for that. Not accomplishing much of my vacation to-do list. Do not even care.


I smoked all the cigarettes and spent all the money. It’s 48 degrees outside. No wonder it feels like it’s still September.

What I want to do on my Christmas vacation:

  • get a massage
  • drink mimosas…..or maybe bellinis (belline?) with brunch
  • pull the conversational Italian books off the shelf and teach Penis Man to say silly stuff
  • wear makeup
  • soak up some baby time
  • forget about the past three plus months and move the fuck on
  • rewrite my resume
  • get ready to quit smoking….again.

What else? Forget about dispersion and gel-breaking and crystallizing agents. So sick of this place. Sleep at night. Eat during the day. Start reading a new book. Clean out my car. Clean out the office. Oooh. Find that thing that Aunt Anna wrote and post it here. That’ll be sweet. Stop saying sweet so much. Maybe find my old good camera and take some pictures. Teach my mom to use her digital camera so I can get those Halloween pictures up on myspace finally. Get that self-portrait reframed. Get back to normal. Heh. Break the pot on the lucky bamboo and repot it. That sounds like more than enough.

Flatulence is not a valid form of communication. Entertainment, maybe. Communication, not so much.

I have this very un-Undecided urge to buy frilly ribbons and make pretty packages. What’s with me? I don’t do that. Usually I’m satisfied if the wrapping paper covers the whole box and the sticky stuff on the premade bows actually sticks to the paper. Manic.

Sweet fancy Moses on buttered toast. I love you guys. Really and truly. Love you. This is the best thing I’ve ever done! I’m a big fucking hippie and yet I’m not the one being bashed. God Bless the Internet! Let all your work (and play) be done with love….it will come back to you. I’m about ten seconds from outing us all and trying to set you two up on a date! I’d better walk away for a while….

Whoa. I know there’s only three of us on this playground so far, but everybody just PLAY NICE. IT’S FREAKING CHRISTMAS. Some of us are actually crazy, and I think we’re all okay with that. Crazy is good. None of us are stable enough to own firearms! We’re all old enough to agree to disagree. Let’s move on….who’s got a conversation starter that won’t make anyone want to off themselves? How about…cookies! What kind of cookies should I bake? Nobody call me Betty Crocker, either. heehee. Old joke, nobody reading this will get it.