It's safe to say I just ate my weight in mushrooms. And by "mushrooms", I mean mushrooms, not *mushrooms*. Don't worry, I had bacon for lunch. No, I just hosted my first writers' group meeting, which is not meant to imply that it's MY writers' group, no indeed, it belongs to the six of us equally as per the custody agreement.
Wow ::ree ree reeeee:: this fucker is RUSTY.
I'm sitting here on the couch after having cleaned TWICE today, once because my friends were coming over, once because my friends have left, and I'm listening to a song about the stitches sewn in a fake messiah's eyes, and that's when I realized that my dog is farting and also that I had to spell check "messiah".
Which actually explains a lot about my so-called "karma".
And then I lied to my entire writers' group about cleaning. Because I WILL CLEAN. It's genetic. Don't try to stop it. You could host this fucker at your house and somehow I'd find a way to clean first. There has got to be a way to harness this power.
If none of this is making sense, it's because I'm gearing up for BlogHer '10 where I will meet my destiny, also known as Jenny from TheBloggess.com (SHAMELESS LINKAGE), and who everyone knows is exactly the opposite of what people think of when they say "making sense", but who everyone ALSO knows has a great rack and a fucking huge wig collection.
Ok, I'm actually sitting here typing. Typing here on this thing. INSTEAD OF MASTURBATING. That's how serious I am about my craft. I'm forcing my itchy fingers to remain above the waist band, which eerily reminds me of my middle school Valentine's Day dance where the teachers walked around the dance floor with wooden rulers and actually measured the distance (in inches, thank god)((for the middle school boys)) between Crotch A and Crotch B. And in hindsight, I'm kind of wondering what the fuck those teachers were actually thinking, like, "Is this what my life has come to? The inches between Crotch A and Crotch B? At work? ON A TUESDAY? Where is the nearest bridge and hand me that rope just for good measure."
My dog just traded up his fart smell for a beef-flavored hoof smell. I'm not sure if it's actually a cow hoof or if it's a different kind of hoof soaked in beef bullion.
QUICK - What's the cheapest kind of hoof?
Whatever the cheapest kind of hoof is, that's probably the kind of hoof it is because the bag says "Made in China". And isn't it funny that I go out of my way to feed this dog holistic, organic dog food that is made with chicken bits instead of Styrofoam, and is fully of unicorn jizz and Obama juice, apparently, because it costs more than my health insurance, and then I buy $36.00 bags of blueberry-flavored, glucosamine-filled nibble treats. And then I hand that same dog a dead animal's foot to chew on.
And I don't even know what kind of animal it's from.
AND I ONLY SPENT $4.99 ON THE BOTTLE OF WINE I JUST FINISHED.
My priorities are officially fucked.