Once again I’ve gotten roped into writing South’s
updates for him while he gallivants all over creation fucking hot chicks.
Ya know it just doesn’t seem fair. Why can’t he ever write my updates
while I’M off gallivanting around having sex with hot chi–oh ok I see why
this always works out the way it does. Never mind.
I trust you all had a great New Year and avoided all alcoholic beverages
and evil temptations of all sorts. Oh! Speaking of evil temptations, if
you’re at the Vegas thingy and you see Tim Case wondering around wearing
the World of Goddess badge, after you finish pointing and laughing at him,
tell him you want your picture taken wearing the badge. I’ll slap it up on
my site. And if you’re a hot cop, please give Tim your phone number for
me. If you are going to the show, I suggest you take along some Airbourne.
I’m always reading about how sick people get at the show. Airbourne is to
be taken the minute you feel like you’re getting a cold, or “before
entering a germ filled environment.” ‘Nuff said.
Just for kicks, I called someone at Bellasmodels.com and asked them how
much it would cost me to take Mike South to the AVN awards, and the woman
on the other end of the phone was laughing so hard, I had a difficult time
understanding what she said. I think it was something like, “Honey, why
would you want to?”
I decided not to make it easy on Mike when he asked me to update this
time, especially after he told me I COULD NOT come to Atlanta and stay at
his place. When he asked me, I said, “Dude. Do I look like your
seneschal?“ (Yeah you guessed it. Somebody gave me the dreaded Word A Day
calendar for Christmas.) I have not been this incensed since Lance
Whatsisface was accused of doing roids in whatever the heck that bike race
is called. South said I couldn’t stay at his place because it was being
fumigated, and while I wholeheartedly agree that it needs to be fumigated,
I’m not buying it. Since when do they fumigate Winnebago’s? Wouldn’t it be
a heck of a lot cheaper to just open the windows? The locks on all of his
cabinets and his fridge were hint of things to come. As were the locks on
his satellite, his computer, his filing cabinet, his porn and his
vibrator. (BTW, “ewwwww!” on that last one.) Oh I got the message. I
wasn’t welcome at Casa de South. So I made him agree to a list of demands
or I wouldn’t write for him.
1. I need some new dildoes. UNUSED. And NO Mike South sex toys. The
last thing I need is hick dick.
2. I need a new vibrator. Ditto on the un-usage-ishness.
3. I need a new filter for my furnace and circular fluorescent bulb for
the kitchen light. (ok on this one, I was just too lazy to go to Home
Depot)
4. I need fresh porn—any kind but Mike South porn because again, no
hick dick.
5. Change TWOG’s best chick blog award status to 2004 AND 2005 in his
links. Glance over to the left of your screen and note what it says.
Can I make things happen or what?
Damn. I should have made him agree to steal me one of those 6 ft.
flamingoes outside the Flamingo Hotel for my front lawn.
I need you guys to do me a por favor: email Mike and tell him that I
deserve to stay at his place and eat his food and cum all over his
pillow when I update for him. It’s only fair. Thanks, you’re sweeties.
I don’t know about you, but Santa was veddy, veddy goot to me. Of course
he brought me my sweet little laptop, a circular saw and a copy of “The
Basics of Household Wiring.” How hard can wiring be if the DVD only
costs $19.95? I’m learning really quickly, too. Of course, I skipped over
a few sections that sounded really boring, like “the importance of
grounding” and “safety, code reference, permits and insurance compliance.”
Blah, blah, blah. I can’t wait to start rewiring the trailer!
I asked for a circular saw because I thought Santa might have a problem
trying to shove a deck down my faux fireplace. I’m tired of inviting
people over for one of my infamous “standing barbecues”. That’s where we
stand around all evening holding our plates cuz GODDESS DOESN’T HAVE A
DAMN DECK on her trailer!! On really hot nights we have to keep moving
while we eat to avoid the mosquitoes. Now that I have the circular saw,
all I need is the plans, the wood, the screws, and some guy to build it
for free.
Why, oh, why did I marry a badass pastry chef instead of a badass
carpenter???
I stayed home for New Year’s and was all snuggly in bed by 9:30. Yes, I am
a party animal, and one of about five people in the entire country who had
to work the whole weekend. The night would have completely passed me by,
but lucky for me, I have one of those friends who always gets rip roaring
drunk on holidays and feels the need to telephone me to talk about his
inebriated condition. Why is it that drunk friends will never call you at
1 or 2 in the afternoon when you’re well rested? No, it’s always at 3 or 4
in the morning, and they always end up crying and telling you how much
they love you. I think if they really loved me, they wouldn’t be getting
my tired ass out of bed at 3 a.m. And why is it they always say the same
thing, “I’m drunk” as if this is some astounding revelation?
Ok, time for me to drive outside and take down the Fourth of July
decorations. You know if I was in Georgia right now, I’d be driving
outside to scream obscenities at South’s neighbors. Sigh. Good times. Good
times.
