You there. Yeah, you, the too-tan blonde woman in the Lily Pulitzer. Okay, first of all, Lily Pulitzer? When are all you pastel rejects from Greenwich and West Palm going to realize that Lily Pulitzer makes everyone look like a toddler. Little a-line sundresses with huge pink pastel flowers and neck scarves? Over-accessorized four year old. But more importantly, I know for a fact that that sky blue Hermes calf-skin bag set you back at least $4,000. I've seen it in various magazines and on the Hermes webpage. $4,000 for a bag that will be entirely too summery in a month and you can't put a freaking tip in the jar? Come on, lady, unless that bag was your entire divorce settlement after your husband ran off with his secretary who is a member of a minority and enjoys cooking and raising children, you're going to Stingy People Hell. In Stingy People Hell there are endless waffles and only a teaspoon of maple syrup. However, the nice man from Brooklyn who gave me a $5 tip for remembering he wanted extra cheese is going to Endless Rib Night Heaven. There will also be barbeque sauce.

Ok maybe a bit of explanation needed there. Simon Who Is Called Simon says that iodine can go directly from a solid to a gas. And a person could too, apparently, if you froze them and then chucked them into the sun. This is good to know. I will make use of this information.

Iodine!

Er...is there _anything_ that can change from a solid to a gas? I mean besides Dark Heart? (Or Darkheart, if you want to be pedantic like the reptile). No, honestly, I want to know. The only thing I remember from high school science is that I wrote a book about bagels to demonstrate osmosis. And it fucking ruled. So please someone email me and tell me about this solid/gas thing. Because that would be really cool.
In other news I would like to point out that it is now officially International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Yearh.
One other thing...my friend Simon, whom I shall call Simon Who Is Called Simon, took me up on the dare and went to the babybaby page. Here's what worries me. Not only did he take the time to email me FOUR MEGS of a song, just to torment me, but....the song he sent me was, apparently, about a little boy named Russel. Now, Simon might not be the real name of Simon Who Is Called Simon- you never know. But I can assure you that his name is not Russel. In fact the only Russel I've ever heard of is in "A Lapdance is So Much Better When The Stripper is Crying", by the Bloodhound Gang. Who the hell is named Russel? And why would Simon Who is Called Simon send me that song? MY name sure as hell is not Russel. I am somewhere between intrigued and skeeved out.
More later.

Right, so today the eye doctor told me that my eyes have an unusually steep slope to them which will make getting contacts more difficult than it should be. Of course. But Irony has abnormally large optic nerves, so it's okay.
And as I share Irony's attraction to effeminate cocky little bastards, I also hold Darkheart personally responsible. And that book Are You My Mommy? is responsible for my hesitancy to commit because of fear of abandonment. That, and guys get really boring after awhile. Probably because none of them turn into red clouds with disembodied glowy eyes. How am I supposed to remain interested when my boyfriends can't change from a solid to a gas? Simpletons.

Hmm, the Dino doubleposted again. I tell her to give up the methamphetamines, but she doesn't listen. I deleted it, because lately we've been trying to shore up her self-esteem, as she is currently a Minion in a sandwich shop.

Also, Dark Heart from the Care Bears movie is cute.
I fully realize that there are at least seventeen things wrong with that sentence. But it just had to be said. And yes I know he's like thirteen so please don't call ....whoever it is you call when people like me say thirteen-year olds are cute. He is a cartoon. He is allowed to be cute. And here's the thing- this explains so much. I must have watched that movie a squillion times between the ages of 3 and 6, and it's like...hotwired into my brain. THIS is why I am attracted to young-looking slightly effeminate boys with hearts of pure evil. It's NOT that something's wrong with me! I just apparently have some neural pathways that fused in the wrong, wrong way and I completely absolve myself of any responsibility. Hey, doesn't that make me a good American? I'm a victim! Wow, this....it just explains so much. All of my fourth year of college, for one thing. I mean, it was a big enough revelation, realizing that half my speech patterns are based on You Can't Do That On Television, but this is even huger.
In other news, were any of you watching the Yankees on YES tonight? Did you hear what Michael Kay said? There was this silence, round about the 8th, so I guess they were talking amongst themselves and not- this bears repeating, not- into the mics, and all of a sudden out of nowhere comes "do they HAVE any landmarks in this town, Ken?" And then there was....more silence. As, I'm assuming, Michael and Ken giggled in silent horror and the network executives screamed things that make paint peel. It was the funniest thing I've ever heard and here's why- the Yankees were playing in Baltimore. If you've been there you know that it DOES have a landmark- it's called the Slum, and it's pretty much the part of town from the northern border to the southern border. Other than that...I think there's some grass and a tree somewhere near Fells Point. God bless you, Michael Kay. May your buildings go condo.

In her rant about devilchildren Irony forgot to mention the grape juice kids from the Welch's commercials. Now, I love grape juice. I have a temple to it in the fridge. But Holy Toast-Eating Christ, those Welch's children are the most obnoxious little 'I'm the most adorable creature in the world except I'm NOT' beasts in the world. They're all going to end up living in someone's basement collecting insects.
Also, my job sucks beyond any reasonable bounds. I did not sign on to wash dishes. I'm not made to wash dishes. Especially when no moisturizer is around. And listen here, all you asshole tourists from New York, unless you want me to take your cheap American beer and shove it up your asses you better learn some damn patience. Also, anyone who needs a beer that badly at 2:00 PM after being out on a freaking boat all day has a major problem. I was standing for nine hours, I needed the damn beer.
God, I better marry rich

Two things. Number A. Johnny Depp is not human. I'm not entirely sure which planet it is he comes from, but they really ought to run tours to it. Oy vey. I'm philosophically opposed to gushing so that's all I'll say about that. And fourthly, several of my overseas friends feel I am being a bit harsh when it comes to tv children and their adorable little antics. This is because they have not yet been subjected to the commercials to which I referred in the previous post. To them I say: www.babybaby.com. If you don't trust me, just go see for yourself. Have a great time! And don't say I didn't warn you.

All kittens gone. All gone. The goddamn world is full of illegitimate kittens. You can hardly walk on our rivers for stepping on burlap sacks filled with kittens. And yet people came and took ours away. Even Harry. They took Harry. I will be fine once I have hit something. A small child, for preference.
Looking back on the posts of the past couple months I realize it's been absolutely ages since I said anything even remotely clever or interesting. This is mainly because I am no longer working at the Damn Hell Ass-Sucking Job of Poo, which gave me ample time in which to stare blankly at the screen. Now that I am no longer indentured to the Ass-Sucking Boss of Poo, I basically go online to check email. But I promise I'll be better. I really am quite clever you know, and if I gave it a second's thought I'm sure I could remember some of the interesting things which have happened to me lately. Let's see. Think......think....uh.....
Hmm, Connecticut really IS like a postcard. It's very pretty, utterly two-dimensional and there's absolutely nothing you can do with it.
I may drive up to the far northeast corner of the state and see if there's a stamp there.

Oh, the bit at the bottom is completely accurate. Irony manages to tune out all conversation that doesn't directly involve her. Wonderful skill, that. Also, I'm the coolest Last Unicorn ever. And people need to stop adopting our kittens. I think we should say they have rabies or mad cow or something.

Err..except for that bit at the end, which I totally object to. I am not self absorbed. I'm merely self aware. If that makes me aware of how fucking cool I am, so be it.

Someone please explain to me how a drive can be 170 miles one way and then 280 coming back. ON THE SAME ROADS. A) Mapquest can kiss my shiny metal ass and B)....what the FUCK is wrong with I-90?

Why does Albany still exist?
More later.

All the cats have been named now. Newt, Gink, Gollum and Trogdor. And we still can't find the fourth kitten and it's horribly depressing because I keep thinking of it all alone in the woods like that poor baby bird from that book Are You My Mommy? In happier news, the kittens are learning socialization skills. Meaning they bat around a tinfoil ball and play with twine. It's nice to have another purpose for tinfoil. You know, besides those hats we make that keep Cookie from reading our thoughts.

Yeah. So. The cats. Irony and I should really stop naming everything ever because naturally we name the cats. And we can't keep the cats. The Father That...uh...Is will not let us keep four (five) cats. Hell, I can't justify adding more animals to our zoo. But...there's Newt and Moose and Stewie and Yet To Be Named One and Two. They just sit there and look all cute and disgruntled and it takes a half hour to round them all up and get them back into the cage because they run and hide under everything in the garage and it's just...so help me, it's cute. But it's okay that it's cute because they're cats and not people. I have to go belittle someone now. Anyone.

We haven't forgotten you, honest. We've just been far too busy being cool to attend to your needs. Check your mail- an apology should be forthcoming. Yes.
So, so many things going on here. Let's see. We have been infected with cats. One showed up on our porch, and it was doing that thing kittens do with the eyes and the fur and the mewling and what were we expected to do? So that one's been living in our garage. Then we realize that it just gave birth (it isn't more than 7 months old, goddamn teeenage pregnancies) so we've been spending the past week trawling around the woods behind our house to find its kittens. Which we did, all four of them. They are stupidly insanely cute and I have been trying to get in touch with my Inner Shithead but she appears to be asleep. So three of them, plus the mother, are now living in our garage. The fourth one ran off. Which means we have to spend more time slogging around in the goddamn woods. I am sick to death of nature touching me. Wet things were in my hair and crawly things on my limbs. This shall not stand. If we don't find the thing soon, I may have to napalm our entire neighborhood. But in the meantime, does anyone want a kitten? Anyone?
Also, I am being screwed by my credit card, who sent a bill to the wrong address- needless to say I did not pay it and now am being slammed with late fees. If this ends up buggering my credit I'm not sure what I will do, but see above re: napalm.
I shouldn't be doing this now. Am far too tired to be witty.