Ah well, I turned.
Yes. This is one of those posts.
So where do I begin? Oh, ok. Enough with the tags and emo things. I like them a lot and they will keep coming back, but well, as a good friend of mine said (and I agreed) :
"I have a Dream. A Wet Dream."
So the Mother's pissed with me because *apparently* I've been the perfect example of the Disgraceful Daughter who *shock yourself please* comes home at 10 p.m. in the night, wearing *GASP... LOOKIT THAT* a shameless grin on her face and a random apology, and without so much a by-your-effing-leave opens the fridge, takes out a few rashers of bacon and calmly fries them at high heat.
PORK IN THE HOUSE!! PIG ALERT!!!
And this glutton lifts up her eyes, eyes her, casts her eyes down and chews some more of the greasy, crispy-chewy bacon that she'd painstakingly acquired from New Market.
In other news, a friend of mine OD'd on Grass. Now that this topic has come up, let me tell you, its (as far as I have observed) impossible to OD on Grass. On further inspection it was revealed that the Grass was accompanied with a few drinks of vodka+rum+fine irish whiskey+ chocolate-chip Icecream and Cocaine.
Even without the final ingredient, the recipe is enough to give a girl a cholesterol attack.
Someone described me as warm and fuzzy. So now I am a myopic thermal blanket. Ah well, if its too cold I can always wrap myself around me.
Am I making any sense in this post?
Did'nt think so too.
But its okay. Pierce Brosnan's on TV. No I will not ask him to get down. He is right now effing the daylights out of Rene Russo. (You got it... its the Thomas Crown Affair. And its UNCENSORED because its on Cable).
Let me just sigh for a few moment and think about a certain butt while you shake your head and curse yourself for reading crap.