You can tell it's time for my friend, the curse, to arrive.......I'm gabbbbbbbbby squared.
As you know, Christmas is now only 105 days away. I sat down last night and started working on this letter to Santa. I'm going for blood this time. I think it's pathetic to be in my 40's and still begging for that fucking Chrissy doll my mother was too cheap to buy me. So I'm pulling out ALL the stops--yes, that means I'm going to LIE TO SANTA. If God hasn't seen fit to strike me dead for all the endless jilling sessions, I'm not real worried about a few lies to the fat guy. This is only my fifth draft. Lemme know what you think.
"Dearest Santa Claus, six weeks ago when the doctors were removing my gangrenous leg, they discovered I had cancer in the percentage of my body that hadn't already been devoured by that destructive flesh eating bacterial thingy. Giving me only two weeks to live, I have managed to survive for the last four. Why, you ask? Because I am fighting with all I have (and it ain't much) to live until Christmas Day because I know that this is the year you will bring my beloved Chrissy doll.
I've been very good this year, Santa. I only slept with the pool boy those eight times. And I swear I didn't enjoy any of it. (Except for the fifth and sixth time when he did that thing with my butthole and his tong--never mind.) I swear on a stack of King Johns, that I just suffered through the rest of those multiple orgasms.
I must go now, Santa. It's time for my codeine/morphine cocktail--if one of the offspring hasn't already downed it, leaving me to suffer through hours of unspeakable pain. After I rest, I'll begin sewing a new wardrobe for Chrissy......if I have the strength to lift the needle. Thank you, Santa.
I just want you to know that if you have to choose between giving me the Chrissy doll and not giving my offspring anything, pick me. Screw. Them. They're healthy enough to be around for many Christmases to come. Unlike myself. Who is dying. And sick. And in desperate need of a Chrissy doll, so I can show it to my mother and scream, "IN YOUR FACE, Mom!! Santa DOES love me'!"
I heart this comment from Barbara Bush concerning the evacuees:
"What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want
to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the
hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here,
you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working
very well for them."
- Barbara Bush on the Katrina evacuees, in an interview to
"Marketplace", an NPR program
George! Do something, quick! We can't have po' people in Texas!!
I spent much of the day screaming obscenities at Page Computers. They STILL haven't
sent me the information I need to return this shitty $522 laptop case. I am MAJORLY p.o.'ed and my next
step is contacting the Better Business Bureau. They were supposed to get me that information within two business days. That was over two weeks ago. I've contacted them several times and the last time I talked with them they said I'd have the info no later than Wednesday. Here it is Friday and I still don't have it. I called the cc company and they're like, "If they tell you they're going to give you the information, give them a chance." I think over 16 days is more than enough of "a chance." I feel like the only thing they're giving me is the runaround. Monday I'm going online and reporting them to the BBB. Screw them. It occurs to me that the reason the cc company doesn't care is because I'm paying interest on this P.O.S. and by the time it gets back to them, I'll have paid interest for almost an entire month.
When I wasn't bitching and moaning about the faux laptop, I re-read one of my favorite romance novels of all time, Marilyn Pappano's "Season for Miracles." Schure it's a Christmas book, but face it, I'm NEVER in the Christmas spirit AT Christmas time because I'm always stressed. I make up for that by being in the Christmas spirit at different times during the year when I'm not required to spend money that I don't have on gifts for people who don't need them. Anywho, "Season for Miracles" is about a woman who "steals" her drug addicted sister's three children after she loses custody of them. She ends up in a town called Bethlehem and there she falls in love with a COP. Of course. The movie isn't nearly as good as the book, mostly because the cop in the movie isn't all that sexy.
Tina Fey of Saturday Night Live fame is going to have her own improv show. I'll reserve judgement until I see it. I'm not a big fan of the improv shows, like Drew Carey's Whose Line is it Anyway? It had it's moments, but so much of that wasn't the least bit funny.
I was watching Whammy the other night and one of the prizes was a shopping spree on Rodeo Drive worth $700. I'm thinking what in the world could you buy on Rodeo Drive for $700? A cup of coffee maybe.
I mistakenly said that Avril Lavigne wrote "Since You've Been Gone," but that's not correct.
She co-authored Breakaway, but had nothing to do with penning the lyrics of "Since...".