So I says to Mabel, Mabel I says…
Oh. You are here.
Who the hell is reading my blogs. I must admit it is tittillating. However, I cannot accept that someone finds what I write interesting enough to view immediately. I think I prefer to wrap myself in the shower curtain, in the dark, in a cold shower, in my clothes, with a 1.75L bottle of vodka, sucking off it like a baby from his mother’s teat…… crying like a broken soul.
Yeah. I like to party. What of it.
So you cretins, you madmen, you saucy devils… out yourselves… say hello… let me know so this narcissistic rage can subside into a challenging regret of things people know….
Of course, I am a very stylish girl.
(For those not on the ball.. like… there is you, on top of the ball… but you cannot stay on it.. for those people: That quote is from Bkfst at Tiff’s and Dimitri from Paris took it to the next level.)
Anyhoo.. I ramble bamble bumble along… my dear friends, like a good soldier Svejk.
It is absolutely phenomenal anti-war novel… but it is about 800 pages any version you read, so … deal with it.
Love you.
TTFN.
Again.. who the fuck are you people? You make me nervous. And give me sort of a warm fuzzy, but I have always known I was fucked up. What’s your excuse?
And for you SF’ers…. Ursula 1000 will be here April 1st. There’s the nod. And Bassnectar will be playing about 12 hours before that. What a weekend. Two Gallants before that!
That is one show Friday night, one on Friday Sat am to dawn, one the following night, and oh my I am dizzy my friends.