aaarrrgg!

i am chewbacca!

aaarrrgg!

i am chewbacca!

with an f.

it is not PHat. it is Fat.

it almost matches my ass. which is PHat. not Fat.

don't believe the rumors.

ps - if my hairdresser wasn't gay, i'd have to marry him for his hair washing skills alone.

with an f.

it is not PHat. it is Fat.

it almost matches my ass. which is PHat. not Fat.

don't believe the rumors.

ps - if my hairdresser wasn't gay, i'd have to marry him for his hair washing skills alone.

hah! silly teenagers! i can eat cookies for breakfast! keep your youthful skin elasticity! I HAVE COOKIES!

muwahahahahahaa!

please stay tuned for his answer... and possibly incessant giggling and blushing.

this is a sad, sad day in my life, you realize.

• when applying mascara, it is wise to keep at least one eye open.

• when applying eyeliner, it is wise to keep at least one eye open.

• when applying eyeshadow, it is wise to keep at least one eye open.

ps. visine does not get all the red out.

my face is on fire!

not that i waxed my whole face, or nothin'... just the parts with abnormal hair growth.

so yesterday i was sad. so i bought flowers for me. and you know what?

i'm still friggin sad! [insert sad face]

ps. i'm feelin' some mood swings coming on! run for the hills!

yes... it is pretty scary, isn't it?

but if i have to adjust these panties any more, i'm just going to have to rip them off! grr!

and sell them on ebay, just like mat's sister.

and, most shocking of all! i know it's hard to believe!! but, i've stopped flailing my arms around erratically when i'm talking.

WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME?!?!?!?

---

also, i caught some really icky dude checkin' out my ass... EEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeWWWWWWwwwww! my phermones? they are a'scarin' me!

---

ps. for some reason there has been a proliferation of people trying to name the dead fish... odd.

she went and started liking some guy and now she's an angst ridden teen. the funny is gone. and has been replaced with pathetic.

she sighs a lot. she makes puppy dog faces. she stares off into space. and she has (god help her) saved his voice messages on her answering machine.

*sigh* someone please kick her.

and by "arms" i mean "bed".

and do you know why? because i've stopped making myself so anxious that i become nauseous! that's why!

and do you know why i was so anxious that i became nauseous? ... eh. i have no idea. no idea at all.

note to self:
please get life.

i'm just one big maintenance problem.

you know when you say things like "come on, just give me ONE chance" and then i say something like "err... i don't know"... well einstein, that's girl for "hell no! but i'm trying to be nice here, so *catch* the *hint*".

but if you insist on not catching the hint, be warned, i'll start saying things like "get lost, bozo". or my personal favorite, "talk to the hand, cuz the face does not understand!"

1. look really great in boot cut pants.
2. hair really bouncy and shiny.
3. boobs + tight sweater.
4. looked really amer-asian (fetishizing costs extra).
5. skin had healthy egomania glow.

1. bloodshot eyes, no visine readily available.
2. hair in disarray.
3. might be wearing pajamas.
4. smell like pizza.
5. comatose appearance.

and why? WHO am i doing the girly stuff for? why, my pretend boyfriend, geriatric mark, of course! he may be in town today - ALL DAY! - YIPPEE!! and i'm going to MARRY him!

kidding. kidding! i was kidding! relax... settle down... breathe deep... *weeze* help! i'm hyperventilating! *snork*

also, this being-a-pedestrian thing, coupled with the whole running-in-the-stairwells thing is making my ass bubblicious.

boo-ya!

... no, not my kid.

my new hairdryer with double ionic ports (and cold shot). *sigh* it's dreamy.

I CAN'T STOP PLAYING WITH MY HAIR! it is so soft and shiny and NOT frizzy!! i love it, i tell you! i love my hair!! LOVE!! MY HAIR!!

BECAUSE!! i just bought a shirt for two dollars! TWO! and it's cute! sure, it's kindof small and i have to squeeze my extra large head through it's extra small neck hole, but... TWO DOLLARS! i'll squeeze my big ass head into it for two bucks.

also i would like to bitch. are you ready?

i'm getting sick of all you small-boobs putting your pretty bras in the big-boob section.

you think you're smart, don't you? with your skinny straps and your two clasps in the back and your demi-cups. hiding your pretty purpley lacy bras in the big hooter section so the other small-boobs won't find it.

you got me all excited! for a second there i thought i was going to have a pretty purpley lacy bra... but nnnoooo... bitches.

but i also feel short... and that makes me sad.

i'm going to go stand over there by some short people until i feel better.

boing, boing. boing, boing.

Lamb! BOO HOO! Dancing! WAH! Big hair! SOB!

They had better not show Band-Aid commercials right now, or I just might lose it.

HORRIFIED!

Better watch out come PMS time. This office is stocked with XActo knives! Grr!

This fumbling thing and girly huffy noise thing works for getting boys to do other things too. For example:

1. Hold a pan. Stand in front of the stove, and stare at it. Intermittantly look back at the pan. Make girly huffy noise... Result: Boy makes dinner.

2. Stand in front of VCR and glare at blinking "12:00". Press all the buttons. Make girly huffy noise... Result: Boy sets VCR clock.

If you have to pee really really bad? It's not a good idea to get on an elevator going up. Oy!

And to all of you wimmins out there who haven't birthed a child, may I say... Cherish your urinating abilities! Because it ain't gonna be the same afterward, let me tell you!

You'll be all, peein' and then you'll stop and you'll think you're done peein'... SURPRISE! You're not done peeing! ... And maybe you'll be lucky and get this surprise more than once! Yay! Or better yet! You'll get the surprise when you're tidying up! YIPPEE!

Everyday I say to my hair, "BE STRAIGHT DAMMIT!".

And then we duke it out for 30 minutes... But today! Today, I am free! Today, I embrace my crossbreed hair! Run free big frizzy knots! Go forth and be wooly!

And now I look like a Chia head. Bah!

But enough about Chia heads. Let's talk about vaginas!

Now ladies, don't forget to clench and hold! But be aware... One can only do so many kegels in public.

Boot cut pants are evil! Evil, I tell you! Unfortunately, they're also very very cute. So, if it means I trip on my pants and fall down the back stairs at work every once in a while, so be it.

And now - an observation... Why do we all put our underpants on the bottom of the clothes pile at the gynecologist? I mean, they're going to be looking headlong at our cooch. Would it really be all that bad if they saw our underwear?

Exercise caution when wearing big hoopy earrings. Do not, under any circumstances attempt to toss your head and brush your hair out of your face at the same time.

Screeching "OW!" impresses nobody.

Have you ever caught yourself saying something like, say, "No! You're silly! No! You!"... and then you become horrified, and then realize that you have to kick your own ass now?

Isn't that just swell?

But anyway. Does this shirt make my arms look long? Because, dammit, I feel like a monkey.

OK, who's bright idea was it for me to go home and change into my Spring shoes?

Sure, they were comfortable at home, but walk down a steep hill, and across 6 city blocks doing that bouncy stomp-stomp walk I can't help but do, and HELLO BLISTERS!

6 blocks. One hill. Two blisters. WHAT THE HELL!?!?! And they're not even cute enough to rationalize the pain!

Stupid frickin' shoes.

Hate! Hate!

I got to sleep in until, like, SEVEN THIRTY this morning! Woo!

And then I went out to brunch, and, like, the 45375th person told me that my new hair is so cute! And fun! And really suits me!

I still don't get it. Why are all these people lying to me? I have eyes! I can see that I look like that cat in Pepe LePew! What do they think I am? Blind? Stupid? I'M NOT BLIND OR STUPID! I know I look ridiculous! Stop jerking me around!

As has been my way, :geriatricmark: should've been chewed up and spat out a long, long time ago, but instead I've opted to save his messages on my answering machine and fill my calendar with notes like "Mark's test! Eek!" and "Mark!" with little hearts drawn around it.

What am I? 12?

And if you're reading this Geriatric Mark... I'M KIDDING! I didn't do any of those things! Hee hee. See? I was joking! It's a joke! Ha ha... Ha...

I'm getting girlier and girlier every day... I wear pink, I'm obsessed with smelling like cookies, I can easily spend 45 minutes doing my hair every morning, and I cry in public - And you don't even have to poke me in the eyeball first!

Hell, last month I bought a magazine about DECORATING! This is starting to get ridiculous... What's next? Reading Danielle Steele novels? Talking about my feelings? Having intensely boring conversations about cross-stitching? Talking about my feelings at cross-stitch camp? ... BAKING?!?!

I am having an unbelievably good hair day. Like, this is the good hair day to end all good hair days... It's at that perfect length, with the perfectly overgrown bangs, and is so shiny and straight that I've done nothing all day but look at myself in reflective surfaces. If there were Academy Awards for good hair, my today hair would be James Cameron... Yeah. My hair is THE KING OF THE WORLD!

This afternoon, I have to go to an office bridal shower for a co-worker... Now, while I love her to death, if I am forced, at any time, to fashion a dress out of toilet paper, my eyeballs will roll so far back in my head that I will see my brain.

And if there is anything involving safety pins or hats made out of paper plates and gift wrap, then... well, I'll just drop dead.

But I think I'm safe since this shower will involve high tea at the toity hotel... But unless "high" means "tequila", I think it's safe to say that I'll be bored clear out of my skull.

Nobody told me that High Tea would involve tiny foie gras and caviar sandwiches, and chocolate dipped strawberries, and bellini's made from the world's most alcoholic champagne.

I'm totally a high tea kind of girl! Or at least I'm an alcoholic beverage kind of girl... But you knew that already.

Things one discusses at brunch when one has friends that are girls! (Yeah, I know! When did I get friends that are girls? Weird.)

• The View has apparently declared Nerds the new Black! This means we're the new Black! We're Black! I'm Black! ... Err. Not that we watch The View or anything... It was just on that one time! And we couldn't find the remote!

• We are not sure how we feel about The Hapa Project... Is it kindof cool? Or are we being objectified? Because I think I feel the heebie jeebies coming on. ((shudder))

• Where to find a new dress appropriate for a summer wedding? ... The hell if I know. Why are you asking me? Have you ever SEEN me in a dress?

• Whatever happened to that Food Tower trend? I want my frittata shoved through a PVC pipe and propped up on hashbrowns, dammit! What's up with the flat frittata! I'VE BEEN SCREWED!
  

Dear Walgreens, Stop encouraging me.

One day, I'll remember that I am Not Good At This. But until that day comes, I'll just have to keep making myself look like an idiot.

I have been known to apply hairspray to my eyeball, and give myself wonky haircuts, and open doors into my face, and I once allowed a small child to apply eyeliner all over. (And did you know that it DOESN'T WASH OFF COMPLETELY?)

And this morning, I decided to powder my eyeball, and then because my eyeball wasn't pretty enough I jabbed it with the mascara wand.

I cannot be responsible for my own maintenance any more... You do it.

I think I will call today "The Day That Jennifer Didn't Wear Enough Makeup To Work".

Sheesh! You can't even tell where my eyes are without that thick ring of Office Lighting Eyeliner around them... Where did I think I was going? A slumber party? Bible class? Bull dyke conference?

Bliss Soap recently opened up in my neighborhood (and on my way to work!) and upon seeing the sign, I promptly had an orgasm.

Today, I dragged (drug?) a couple of my co-workers into the store after lunch and ran around the store in a CRAZY BATH PRODUCT FRENZY!

Co-workers were heard saying: "Oh my God. Look at her. She's in heaven."

Also: "Why do you want a bomb for your bath?" To which I replied by choking... WHO DOESN'T WANT A BOMB FOR THEIR BATH?!?! Crazy people.

PS. This is officially the best thing ever.

I cut off 4 inches of my hair, and no one seems to notice. Which is odd, because I was sure they'd be thrilled to no longer get my hair stuck in their armpits.

Other good things about having slightly shorter hair:

1. Split ends? Wussat?
   
2. Hair drying time down from 15 minutes to 13 minutes! I can sleep 2 minutes longer in the mornings!
   
3. Accidental injury from slamming hair in car doors decreased.
   
4. Hair no longer smells like Right Guard. See aforementioned armpit situation.
   
5. Unrestricted view of cleavage.
   

Yesterday, I packed up the child and mosied (moseyed?) on down to the corner of 2nd & Pine in downtown Seattle because "we're going to go make my life worth living."

You know... by buying things!

Next month, we'll be needing to make my life worth living again.

My boss should just make my severence check payable to John Fluevog and save me all the trouble of pretending like I'm going to deposit the check in my savings account.