I sent a drunk email to Coleen on Friday. It probably made more sense than this entry does.
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I bought some shoes last week that are pretty much hooker shoes. And I bought them to wear in Las Vegas, with jeans and a black slutty top and a white feather boa sprinkled through with silver tinsel. Why? Well, because those silver hooker shoes are my Bachelorette Party Shoes. Some people mark milestones in their lives with engraved photo frames, I mark mine with shoes.
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Last week I also went and bought a second white bustier to wear with the wedding dress since I managed to pick one out that necessitates a strapless bra. The words of doom for anyone over a C cup: Strapless Bra!! Anyway, I found one, and it's even kinda pretty. It's also a 44DDD. No, that is not a typo. Yes, I refuse to call it an E because E's are for porn stars. And yet, my everyday bras are still a comfy DD...thank goodness because if they weren't I would have to legally change my name to Chesty LaRue.
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In two weeks, Riley will be losing his manhood. That's right, I'm finally going to get Uniball clipped. I just got tired of his constant howling and humping of anything soft during this past hormone fluctuation. He's usually pretty mellow and never sprays, is the opposite of aggressive, and yes, Abbie is spayed. So when his second ball never deigned to drop when he was a kitten, I just let him be. I didn't want to let them cut him open to try and find the errant testicle, so he got to keep them both. But he still got all horny once a year or so and this latest round was just horrid; there's only so many times a woman can wake up to her cat humping the pillow her head is resting on before she snaps. So that's it, no more balls for Riley. Abbie (and every pillow in the house) is thrilled beyond belief.
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This weekend is my wedding shower, and I am thrilled beyond belief. All my friends in one room, good food and presents. What more could a girl ask for? I am going to have to be sure and take a few special coins with me though, since one is supposed to give money to anyone who gives you knives as a gift, so as to prevent horrible things from happening to the friendship. Or something. Whatever, it's something I read on Indiebride that sounded cool. I'll have to look it up and make sure I'm not completely talking out of my ass.
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Dear Writers & Producers of Grey's Anatomy:
If you let Bailey's husband and/or son die, I will have to pay you back in kind. Only with fire, and possibly roving bands of rabid wolves.
And also, Burke should be known as Dr. McDreamiEST, because he is awesome. If I ever need life-saving surgery, I want him to be the one doing it.
Don't fuck this up,
A Woman With Way Too Much Invested In Your Stupid Show
I bought some shoes last week that are pretty much hooker shoes. And I bought them to wear in Las Vegas, with jeans and a black slutty top and a white feather boa sprinkled through with silver tinsel. Why? Well, because those silver hooker shoes are my Bachelorette Party Shoes. Some people mark milestones in their lives with engraved photo frames, I mark mine with shoes.
Last week I also went and bought a second white bustier to wear with the wedding dress since I managed to pick one out that necessitates a strapless bra. The words of doom for anyone over a C cup: Strapless Bra!! Anyway, I found one, and it's even kinda pretty. It's also a 44DDD. No, that is not a typo. Yes, I refuse to call it an E because E's are for porn stars. And yet, my everyday bras are still a comfy DD...thank goodness because if they weren't I would have to legally change my name to Chesty LaRue.
In two weeks, Riley will be losing his manhood. That's right, I'm finally going to get Uniball clipped. I just got tired of his constant howling and humping of anything soft during this past hormone fluctuation. He's usually pretty mellow and never sprays, is the opposite of aggressive, and yes, Abbie is spayed. So when his second ball never deigned to drop when he was a kitten, I just let him be. I didn't want to let them cut him open to try and find the errant testicle, so he got to keep them both. But he still got all horny once a year or so and this latest round was just horrid; there's only so many times a woman can wake up to her cat humping the pillow her head is resting on before she snaps. So that's it, no more balls for Riley. Abbie (and every pillow in the house) is thrilled beyond belief.
This weekend is my wedding shower, and I am thrilled beyond belief. All my friends in one room, good food and presents. What more could a girl ask for? I am going to have to be sure and take a few special coins with me though, since one is supposed to give money to anyone who gives you knives as a gift, so as to prevent horrible things from happening to the friendship. Or something. Whatever, it's something I read on Indiebride that sounded cool. I'll have to look it up and make sure I'm not completely talking out of my ass.
Dear Writers & Producers of Grey's Anatomy:
If you let Bailey's husband and/or son die, I will have to pay you back in kind. Only with fire, and possibly roving bands of rabid wolves.
And also, Burke should be known as Dr. McDreamiEST, because he is awesome. If I ever need life-saving surgery, I want him to be the one doing it.
Don't fuck this up,
A Woman With Way Too Much Invested In Your Stupid Show
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