May I respectfully encourage everyone to comment on blog utterances with abandon? Don't be a'skeered. Go ahead! It's fun.
~ God just gave St. Agatha new boobs to to teach those medieval titty twisters a lesson. Which backfired not on God, but on St. Agatha. Unfair! God likes to use us to flip off people with whom he REALLY has an issue. Like that time I got engaged to an atheist who converted to Catholicism who then turned gay and became a priest.
Wait. Was it my boobs?
~ The Rick James version of the Bible can indeed repel vampires.
~ Booby perfection indeed! It’s funny how God or Mother Nature or whatever entity is in charge, throws down just the right message at the right time. I have Parkinson’s, and like your RA, the whole freakin’ thing pisses me off to a somewhat lunatic degree at times.
And then up pops a Booby Mushroom, and all is well again!
Tim Gunn should definately think about spreading his genetics around a bit. Clone a Tim Gunn Army and we’d not only achieve world peace and civility, but we’d look pretty hot too! Gather around Designers and carry on!
~ She patted her hair, tucked in any fly-away ends and checked her lipstick for smears. She then arranged her face in that reveal-nothing rictus of a dutiful Senator's wife. "It's about time I was the one calling the press conference," she thought.
~ Mom: I just read your blog and it was great.
Me: Thanks Mom.
Mom: Only one thing though. Do you need to be so, well, earthy? And when did you get a DVR?
Me: Well, Mom blogs are our “voices” and that’s how I talk. And I didn’t get a DVR.
Mom: Who’s Tim? Is he nice? Why are you calling yourself Booshy?
Me: (Ding! Light goes on) That’s not my blog you read, it’s one of my favorite ones someone else writes. You clicked on it from my site!
Mom: Oh well she’s very good. Never mind then.
~ ‘Tis all about yer scabbard and how well the sabre fits! We’re all thievin’ wenches deep down inside, so quaff your rum and boff yer bums…There be ships to pillage and spoils to divvy up!
(oh dear God! shoot me before i pirate talk again. is an exorcism in order?)
~ Just thought it was harmlessly quirky when he turned into a seething pile of aggressively horny man-sex when I said something about kangaroos in a faux Australian accent…
Until I heard his GPS.
I’m going to snuff that Olivia Newton John Jezebel dashboard poser when he’s not looking!
~ It’s Florida here. I frequently hear the soft “tick, tick, — tick, tick, tick – scurrrrrry,” of dinner-plate sized arachnids (There ya go Tim, exacerbate THAT!)as they traverse the bedroom ceiling at night in the flippin’ dark. Catch these freaks of tropical nature in a maglite beam and they jump aggressively forward in a blur of eight-legged alien horror, challenging like drunken hairy wind-up toys from Planet 9. And yet, with plastic cup and a paper plate I still catch and release. Trying hard not to irritate my already shaky karma.
~ In the throes of that very same technicolor yawn, caused by too many shots of tequila and possibly the ingestion of the worm, a roommate of mine in college decided to pull up a laundry hamper and just bare her soul about how much she disliked my every molecule of being. She did hold my hair however in an act of thin compassion.