winners FTW!

dearest internet,
i have so much to tell you. Plus I learnt a few really neat facts this week, about how the river in Wisconsin, Ohio, caught on fire oneday. That is a true fact.
These facts:  - They totally knew that this fire was about to happen
                     - Officials had is the river so precisely timed, that when the clocks struck 0 minus 10 seconds, the mayor, and all of his political pals (included was anyone he could think of that smoked a cigar), as well as the local sheriff and a select few men from his precinct... they all opened their lawn chairs and outdoor loungers and pulled their cigars and cigarettes out from their inner breast pockets of their absurdly overpriced jacket. And as they all chuckled amongst themselves while every odd elbow jabbed into every odd ribcage, followed by every odd shifty-eyed, tooth-filled smile. "Last call;" the only two recognizable words above crowd's ale_distorted speech bubble, and mostly-so because of undeniable coherence. The word last referred to the very few minutes that the gentlemen/contenders had left to place their bets on the act they had come to witness. The inside joke amongst them had now been over-done, and their extremely short tempers were beginning to wonder if they had to make an appearance to get this so-called show on the road. 


The first official took a glance to see if spectators and money-investors had stepped back enough paces, and then continued on to tear a match out of his matchbook. Thumb down and swiftly pulling the match away from him, it struck against the sandpaper on the back of the book. Turning the fire in on its own kind, they watched ever-so-silently, as the matchbook in his hand cracked in twenty two different ways and blazed on fire, held high above them all. But not too long, before he let the wind just slightly grab it from him and swoop it onto the river water. 


There was three seconds, two awkward coughts and throat-clearings from a few in the crowd, and a moment in which it looked like everybody had lost on their money on this silly gamble. For the matchbook appeared to extinguish its flames.
But that thought had not enough time to even be thunk in one's brain, for the next blink of an eye revealed not just a few inches, or a few feet. ...but the entire fucking river had caught fire. It looks like there would be lots of winners tonight, and the boy with the coherant voice tried to sort through the crowd of waving arms, desperately clutching their winning ticket. Boy, did they ever win alright....'

ahem... anyways.... THOSE facts? May not be true. But who am I to say?

so yet another infamous "Stuff My Face!" week is in full swing. And I have to say, i am quite stuffed full at this current moment in time. Chalk that as another triumphant win for me and endless spaghetti suppers.

rainbow suspendorisis

as per always, I decide the best time to rant to an internet-united peoples, is when they are fast asleep. Or pretending to be fast asleep, and rolling by a different name altogether, just to stay up until the wee hours playing Bejeweled. While all your snoozers, and boozers, and bejewelerz... are pre-occupied in yourselves, I -wont break the trend- am also consumed by my own activities. And it isn't boredom that causes me to rip out the skin on the inside of my ears (I'll admit; I did wince. Twice. And swore four times).
The headphones are on. The volume has been on mute the moment I plugged these puppies in. I dont even have a song playing, not even Cher. Especially not Cher.
I'd like to take this moment to apologize immensely to the larger percentage of the gay boy population that I know.. for taking what would surely seem like a swing (and a miss..) at their self-proposed birth mother. No offense boys, cuz I know you definitely wouldnt be reading this anyways.
Tomorrow I am going to work up the courage to go and wait beside that guy who is wondering what I have, or what I'd do to get ahead of him in line to see the doctor.. and get first dibs on sanitary pads, saline solution, tongue depressors, and latex-free rubber gloves.
Finders keepers, motherfucker.
Back off - get your own sandwich.

My kitten and furriest love of my life has been slowly coping with the fact that now included in her kitten-tree meals, is the smelly devil known as Apple Cider Vinegar. A few drops every meal to every second meal, pissed her off/ depressed her for a few days... but now her taste has become acquired and she hardly notices. I am doing her a favour. Instead of spraying her with toxins for her fur, or giving her store-grade poisons to keep away any parasites, good ol ACV does it all, and its natural, and it detoxes her system of any bullshit. After doing decades of research, its by-far the best option for her, and cheapest. I'd recommend it to any cat-owner that'd listen.... but I have minimal faith in mankind this week (reason: unknown ), therefore feel as tho you, out there in blog-land, already know my concerns. And as no surprise, yet again, I play the "nobody-actually-cares-to-listen-and-give-two-big-fat-flying-fucks CARD". Full house. I win.
And I walk away from the table, two dollars and fifty cents richer.
HEY, biiiiiig spender. Dig my blender.

sssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS....sssssssss.      ssss.ssssssssssssssssssssssss.......

nice! after much thought and very envious imaginary beard stroking, I figured out how to equip Lauren's macbook with photoshop. it wasnt hard.
I'm just daft sometimes.
Well, apparently LIFE, you can take all your daft and stick it in your imaginary pipe and smoke it.
...as if that was an insult, once upon a time not that long ago.

Anyways, despite having a fairly new phone I am going to reclaim that I need a new phone.
I own the Samsing.. "flight".... ugh. about as intimidating as it sounds. Not like I am expecting it to pull out a chainsaw and go ape shit on the neighbours, while recording the whole ordeal in secret hopes of becoming a youtube "star"... but since we're on the topic of the name; it is also deceiving. It does not fly. Nor will it ever. Plus I seriously doubt its ability to handle any type of flight, be in minor or not.

Listening to some extremely edible dubstep. Hot water tank at Lauren's is all busted up, but her dad is kind enough to turn it on, despite its more leaky qualities, allowing us to clean our smelly areas and turn them into freshhhhh smelling areas, for all to enjoy from a safe and pg-rated distance.

Time to make the pg-rated transition into freshness.

annoyances bite

current frustrations are at an all time high.
my lack of mentioning it is entirely due to the embarrassing nature of the situation. however, i am almost at some sort of breaking point with it all. And am sure that it will be made public, when the day comes that I finally snap and fall off the side of the earth. Laughing hysterically, of course. I couldnt do it any other way.
Nights I have actually slept at my sisters (coff.. my new place..coff): <3.
Day of the month: 13th
Amount of times a day that I curse the existence of fleas: >30,485
(there - i said it)

This annoyance bites significantly hard into my sleep time, making me the grumpiest panda that you'd ever pay to see on display. And the responsibility of making them disappear when no body in the neighborhood (or house) lends a helping hand with their removal? I cant handle it. I literally feel as though I have lost anything that I find enjoyable and have replaced it with... vacuuming, buying vinegar, combing/brushing my poor kitty...to name a few.

At my new place (where? st.anne's rd.) I lack pillows and a comforter. Also lost my mattress and bed frame, but thank the lordy, at least I have a box spring.

And for it only being the thirteenth, I find myself slightly bitter (as well, lol... they just all add up) at the presence of a thief in my midst. Now only to use my ultimate sleuthing skills and find him, and then proceed to unmask, the bee-otch.

Words of advice are very welcome. De-lousing powder, not preferred, but still considered. And spaghetti and slurpees should never be ruled out. Doors are open.