Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I'm hoping to work with you more in the future. It seems all the bookings usually need a happy guy or gal and they don't want any edgy comics. There is a gig June 30th at a Nudist Colony. It has to be a clean set. They tell me it's like every other gig. If you want to go, call me.
So I can't say the word 'penis' in front of a row of naked penises?
On top of that, I was co-headlining, meaning there were only two of us and each had to do 45 minutes. But I had to go last, in the headliner position. The first girl, who was as funny as a box of hair, could barely do 20 minutes and I had to cover her time so I did over an hour. And we got paid the same.
Standup is so fuckedup.
End of chat.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
It was like being 4 years old again minus the spankings.
So yesterday I called Pink Dot for a delivery and contemplated asking for a non-Mexican delivery guy. That's before I realized that they might be employing Swedes, who are known to be extremely sneaky, or Russians, drunk, sad Russians. I decided to say nothing. The man arrived and I asked him to come in, as I do all delivery people. He hung back, coughed, THAT'S RIGHT, and said, "I have a cold. I'll stay out here." And then I heard nose sniffling.
What part of IF YOU'RE SICK DON'T COME TO WORK did this man not understand? So of course, I asked him if he had SWINE FLU and he laughed and said no. I'm sorry, but that's funny, why?
Then he wanted my credit card and after he took it I said, "I guess I'll even have to wash off my credit card." He didn't dissuade me.
So I washed my hands, the credit card and was eating the fruit salad and all of a sudden I thought WHO SLICED THIS BANANA?
End of chat.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Bea was a little under the weather and a friend of hers was bringing her soup and asked if I wanted to come along. There were only three women in comedy who I admired: Lucille Ball, Eve Arden and Bea Arthur. Did I want to come along? No, send me to Montana to die alone among the sagebrush and rattlesnakes.
We arrived about 4 pm and she asked us if we wanted a drink. I was so starstruck, and kinda scared of her, she's a tall, intimidating woman who's quite brilliant, that I couldn't tell you one thing about her house except that we ended up in the kitchen. Thank God I was drinking in those days so she poured us each a stiff vodka and gave my friend a glass of wine. Bea had 2 Dobermans. A Dobie with cut ears is the one of the most beautiful and scariest looking dogs in the world. Bea was an animal lover so she didn't have their ears cut, which made them look like big old friendly puppies. I forgot how snappy those dogs could be and played a little too roughly with one of them and he bared his teeth and took a swipe at my arm. I would never have played rough with a Dobie with cut ears. Bea didn't seem to notice, thank God. The moral of that story is I'm quite the idiot when I apply myself.
As we drank I peppered Bea with questions about her career. We talked about why her shows weren't, at that time, in rotation on TV Land but were on in Canada. I had just returned from a tour there and had seen reruns of Maude and that's what made me bring up the topic. Bea played Archie Bunker's liberal feminist neighbor for a few episodes on All In The Family and a studio executive noticed her and said "Who's the new girl? Let's give her own show." And they did. She was 50 at the time.
From there we moved on to The Golden Girls. I mentioned that the brilliance of that show, to me, was that each of them had a very distinct comedy persona. It's what made Frasier, Roseanne, Will & Grace, Friends, Cheers, Seinfeld and others so iconic. And it's what made Step by Step painful enough to be the anesthetic for a root canal. From there we dissected all the Golden Girls. When we came to Betty White, Bea said, "I couldn't stand her." At first I thought she was kidding and didn't quite know what to say so I just asked her why. "Because," she said in that throaty drawl of hers, "she was a cunt." I remembered hearing a story years and years ago about how 'someone' used to take dumps in Betty's trailer's bathroom and never flush. It was often rumored to be Bea. Apocryphal or not, after that day at her house I thought it might be true.
Bea was married for 28 years to Actor/Director Gene Saks. According to my friend, she never recovered from that divorce (he cheated on her with a younger woman welcome to show business 101) and never remarried.
Bea drank straight vodka from about 4 to 9 pm and then went to bed. Then she would wake up around midnight and watch TV. At parties at her house, dinners were early because she tossed guests out at 9 pm. When she performed? Didn't drink at all.
We went to her one-person show here in LA. She was in her early 80's by then and preparing to take the show to Broadway while I prepared for hip surgery. How depressing is that?
We went backstage to congratulate her. She was humble and charming and always, always funny. The lighting and sound technician from The Duplex in New York, one of the clubs I was thrown out of back in the day, came up to me and I was happy to see him. He was Bea's stage manager. He was there in NY the night I was banned. I was thrown out of 3 clubs before I moved to Los Angeles, one of them twice. I defy anyone to say they can beat that record.
R.I.P. Bea. You were so fucking funny.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The little voice in my head, or as my shrink refers to it, SCHIZOPHRENIA, made me have to hear her voice. And being the impulsive person that I am, I called.
Just as an aside, 'schizophrenia' with spellcheck gave me the option of "cheeseparing." Soooooooo fucking close.
Everyone's talking on their blogs about how our bloggy brand of friendship is as real as any irl friendship. I think it's better because they can't borrow things from you and then secretly pack them in their suitcase without telling you and then go on vacation for 2 weeks which instead turns into 2 months.
It's always strange to hear a blogger friend's voice for the first time. People who have been reading me for a long time are often shocked to hear my voice because I sound like I've been smoking gravel-filled tampons. And what if I do?
Braja's voice is soothing, like a quiet waterfall with wind chimes. I heard Jahnu say hi from the background. She's doing well, they both are and yes, I told her and Vodka Mom the story of The Sharp Left Turn, which she mentions in her blog today. It happened to a friend of mine, a stranger on a plane told it to her.
My friend was divorced with 4 boys and lived in Texas, where there is no alimony. (EEK) She finally met a new man, dated him for 2 years, got engaged and then the day before she took him home for the Christmas holidays to meet her family in Virginia, he dumped her. She got on the plane alone and she and the lady next to her struck up a conversation and my friend told her of her recent split.
"It just came of nowhere."
"Ahhh, the Sharp Left Turn."
"When you're going along in life and everything seems so smooth and uneventful and then a huge upheaval happens, that's God. He's taking you out; you were going the wrong way."
Then a comedian I know stole the story and called it the Sharp Right Turn. Soooooooo fucking close.
End of chat.
Friday, April 24, 2009
That's not my motto or anything it's just that a few days ago I wrote IS GOD EVEN ON DUTY ANYMORE? Now that I've written it once again I would like to add this disclaimer:
It was just a joke, now bring back my stuff.
It started with the 2 Milky Ways. Remember that heartbreaking story about Pink Dot forgetting to add them to my order? Really, someone in Hollywood should make that into a movie.
Then I went to Bed Bath and Beyond. My sister had 100 coupons and had given me half. Did I take them with me? Did I even remember where I put them? So the cashier asks me if I have one and I say "One what?" Now I have to find the coupons and go back to the store and take my receipt to get 20% off $14.99. DON'T LAUGH, WE'RE IN A RECESSION, PEOPLE.
Then yesterday I couldn't find my driving glasses, which are prescription CHANEL and which I always leave in my car. GONE. I asked a man walking down the street to help me look. He might have been a serial killer but without those glasses I'll just drive into a wall and die anyway.
Now I need more Clonopin so I can sleep through the night. I called my shrink and asked her to phone it in to Costco because I went 5 days without it and thought I didn't need it anymore BUT I'M THE WORST PERSON TO TAKE ADVICE FROM BECAUSE I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER TO BRING A COUPON TO BED, BATH AND BEYOND. I called Costco to see if it was in yet and guess what? IT ISN'T.
And now the WORST thing of all. Vodka Mom is gone.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
We live a few blocks from the Cinerama Dome, which costs a few bucks more but no one yells at the screen and there are never any babies crying and you can reserve your seat in advance while sitting naked at your computer with chocolate melanoma on your thigh.
It was built in 1963 to present special "Cinerama" movies. Cinerama was a wide-screen format of the early 60's, which used three separate 35 mm projectors and a huge curved screen. It was very successful and hundreds of domed theatres were planned, but the wide-screen process proved too expensive, and the Cinerama movie fad soon faded from popularity and became the VHS of movies. Ours is one of the last ones left in captivity.
This incident happened a month or so before my surgery last year and I was in BAD shape. I was buying painkillers off the drug dealer in the apartment next to me and I was the one complaining about him.
I took my reserved seat and noticed that Conchata and her 98 pound husband were sitting in back of me on the aisle. I'd chosen a middle seat and had a cane. The movie ended and I wobbled to the stairs and was negotiating them slowly when I hear her behind me say in a booming voice, EXCUUUUUSE ME. I edged closer to the side, which p.s., I was already so on the side I could have passed for flocked wallpaper. She just needed more room so people could recognize her. And how did she miss a FUCKING CANE and someone LIMPING?
Once in the lobby I put on a heavIER limp and hobbled right beside her and she didn't seem to think I was slowing down her trip to lap band surgery as she strolled leisurely along.
I'm telling you, fat people hate me.
End of chat.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I dated Dr. Howard for 3 years and saw surgeries performed, which is fairly gross. But it's fun to watch the boobs get bigger and the skin peel up and off the facial bones. Once I asked him to lipo under my chin and he replied Stop Eating So Much.
I weighed 134 at the time. Asshole.
Then I moved to L.A. and my sister put me on Herbalife and I lost 12 pounds (turns out that the more protein you eat, the less you crave sugar) So I hadn't needed lipo after all. It's so annoying when your boyfriend is right, especially about plastic surgery when he's a plastic surgeon and you're on food stamps.
Once two female comics came to my house. We were discusing my upper and lower eye job. One asked me if she needed hers done and I said yes. Then the other one asked me if she needed one and I said no. The one I said yes to went around telling everyone that I had told her she needed her eyes done. People from Latvia to New Guinea were writing me hate mail. Of course she had left out the part where I said, if you really want to know, I'll tell you the truth and show you how different you'd look.
For example, if you wonder if you need a face lift, lie down on the floor and hold a big hand mirror up to your face. If your face looks better lying down than standing up, you need one. I spend all day lying on the floor. Crying.
I remember a comedian who was told she needed a nose job. The agents who liked her, and she was very funny, told her to get one. She didn't. She's now married with two kids and no longer living in L.A. and not in the business.
There was a male comic who needed a nose job but he wasn't as funny as the girl. He got no nose job but booked commercial after commercial and is now head writer on a late night talk show.
If you ever meet me and I start staring at a certain part of your face or body, call a plastic surgeon and let HER give you the bad news. I don't need more hate mail.
Three days ago I saw this dark spot on my thigh. I had never seen it before. Yesterday it spread and today it had spread a little more. MELAFUCKNGNOMA!!! Do I call my dermatologist or wait and see if it gets bigger?
IS GOD EVEN ON DUTY ANYMORE?
So I decided to scrape it off. I picked at it expecting to draw blood but no blood. I had scraped it all off and now it was on my nail and vicinity. I could not drive to the doctor with some random melanoma on my finger. I walked around looking for small containers and then the phone rang and while I was talking I must have had a mini-stroke because I PUT THE DEADLY FINGER IN MY MOUTH.
And then I died and the girl who needed the eye job was arrested for murder.
It was only chocolate.
End of chat.
Monday, April 20, 2009
The last time he came, 2 days ago, I was telling him how great he was and how I was going to call Pink Dot and tell them that. His face turned grey and I'm sure it's because I really said "Hey Geronimo, where's your horse and face paint?"
As I mentioned, my Spanish is sketchy. Or non-existentimento.
He left. I called Pink Dot. I raved on and on about Geronimo and they thanked me for the feedback because it helped the drivers. I unpacked my groceries and MY TWO MILKY WAYS WERE NOT THERE. Which is the only reason I ordered from the stupid ass store. I did not call back and complain, like I usually do, because I was afraid Geronimo would lose his job in a country whose only English word he knows is 'goodbye.'
And who told me I needed two Milky Ways anyway? I know it was one of you.
End of chat.
Friday, April 17, 2009
1. Yesterday my mother asked me how to spell my first name.
2. My dog died.
3. In 1991.
4. I have ear rocks.
I think we're done here.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
My first fiance was young and in the Army.
The Salvation Army.
He was so immature that on April Fool's Day he put polygrip in my diaphragm. I walked around all day sounding like a plunger.
One day he shaved his head.
"Why did you do that?"
"I'm trying to make my head look bigger."
"I wish you'd shave another part of your anatomy."
My second fiance gave me a big diamond ring, only there was no diamond. I had to keep telling people it dropped out and he kept telling people I lost it. He should have just put polygrip in it.
My third attempt at matrimony was creepy. He was 20 years older than me. He took me to meet his parents and I said, "Wow, this is a lovely cemetery."
He got mad at me because I kept putting our mortgage on a credit card. Finally I said to him, "That's not so bad. Our mortgage is $900.00 but our monthly minimum payment is only $76.50.
"If you had been alive in the 18th century you would have had to go to Debtor's prison." He said.
"Really? If they had that today I'd be on death row."
I don't think people should get a license for marriage. I think they should get Viagra, a gym membership, hair plugs and a warranty for parts and labor.
They do it so much better in the animal kingdom. The bald eagle mates and remains faithful for life. But I'll bet if he had some hair he'd be out screwing around.
End of chat.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I hate driving with him. He reads every road sign out loud. Food, Gas, Lodging, 65 mph, 280 miles to Cleveland, which would scare me because we'd be in California at the time.
And another thing,why do men watch so much sports on TV? Is it because they can't read? Doctors claim men don't need as much anesthesia as women before surgery. For women, they just give them intravenous Valium and for men, they just turn on a TV.
Why are men such babies when they're sick? The guy next door got a head cold and he said to me, "I think my arm is going to fall off. I blew my nose and it was all wobbly and stuff."
Breaking up with a man is such a pain in the ass. I broke up with one guy and he said, "You know what your problem is? You have penis envy." And I said, "You're right, but not for yours".
I dumped another guy and said, "I just want to be your friend; I don't want to sleep with you anymore."And he said, "What's the definition of 'a friend' to you?" And I replied, "A friend is someone who will do anything for you." And he said, "Then lend me $500 and help me move next week. " And I said, "I think I could still fuck you."
End of chat.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I'm now in one of those relationships where when it's his birthday, we're getting along fine and when it's my birthday; we're not. The first time we had sex, he said to me, “I’ve been with a 100 women. How many men have you been with. Three?” and I replied, “Three, four hundred, somewhere around there.”
Meanwhile, I had three the first time.
Shit, Ellen’s had three.
He’s a type A personality. He gets up at 4:00 am every day. I'm a type Z personality. I get up every other day.
I wish he was more like me. I love to gossip. You'll never hear two men on the phone going, "So Bill, what happened to Stanley's hair?"
We fight over his driving. We took a trip to the desert and I fell asleep for 10 minutes. When I woke up there was snow everywhere. "Where are we?” I asked, and he said "I'm not really sure but I think we're almost in Palm Springs." I said, "Really? Well, why don't we pull over and ask these Canadian Mounties exactly where we are? "
If you sift through history, it has always been man’s job to get us lost. Remember when Moses wandered in the desert with the Jews for 40 years? That was supposed to be a 10 day trip. And the whole time Moses' wife was in the caravan going, "Moses, don't be a schmuck. You’re killing me here. Pull into the oasis; ask Achmed how to get there." Do you know why Moses had to part the Red Sea? He couldn't find his way around.
You know sometimes you're on a plane and the pilot's voice comes over the loud speaker, "We're just circling until we have permission to land."
He's lying, he’s looking for the airport.
End of chat.
Monday, April 13, 2009
I've had trouble with men from the moment I started dating. My first real boyfriend got hit by a truck. My second boyfriend had a heart attack at 32. My third boyfriend called me up one day and said, “You know, I think you’re a jinx”. And I said, “How do you figure?” But then the phone went dead because you’re only allowed those ten minute calls from prison.
The first thing I look for in a man is a man who cooks, because I don’t cook. I’ll eat out, I’ll take out, I’ll put out but I ain't cooking. When I get my dream house, I’m not even going to build a kitchen. I’m going to have them put a KFC in on the ground floor.
Did you ever notice how when you ask a man a question, they're afraid to answer? That's because they're convinced there's a right and a wrong answer and they want to be right. They always want to be right. But what they don't understand is no matter what they say, it's always going to be wrong because they're the guy.
Did you ever go out with a really horrible guy, a real asshole, and pray he would never call you? And then when he never calls you’re like, I cannot believe that jerk never called me again. Then when he finally does call we say we have to wash our hair. Recently I ran into my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. He shared with me that they had just returned from rehab and I was so upset. This guy had never taken me anywhere.
I once dated identical twins. Well, not EXACTLY identical. Twins is such a weird concept. One is born and then the other one shoots out right behind him. Basically one comes faster, which is how I could always tell them apart.
End of chat.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Seriously, how moronic am I? We HAVE to get Vodka Mom to the top. So go vote for her! If you're nominated and want me to vote for you, write me with your blog and REAL name and I will.
ALSO, people are closing in on me on the votes. I feel like the Wicked Witch and the house just fell on me. Heeeellllllllllppmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
End of chat.
So the next time you want me to do you a favor, REMEMBER THAT. And that means you MOM.
But thank you to the 26 geniuses who've voted for me so far and thus are not getting hangups in the middle of the night and I hope your phones are not by your beds BECAUSE YOU'LL NEVER SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT AGAIN.
Oh yeah, and Happy Easter. AND I'M NOT KIDDING.
End of chat.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Mothers across America are lying to their children, telling them the Easter Bunny is coming and using Easter as an excuse to eat 3 pounds of chocolate which they've stolen from their happily naive kids who they've sent off into the wild to search for their favorite candy, the hard boiled egg.
One of my exes, The Impotentate (Go ahead, figure it out. I'll wait.) was married to a very pretty woman. In the 7 years we were together, we spent a lot of holidays with her, their son and her new husband, Hopefully Not Impotent. She decorated for every holiday and Easter was a week of plastic and glass bunnies, fake green grass and baskets with a handle which cannot be used as a designer bag, NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRIED.
To quote the late, great comedian Sam Kinison. "If Jesus is coming back, don't you think he's gonna be pissed when he sees that people are wearing the place he died around their necks?"
You've heard this question, "If you could eat dinner with anyone from the past, who would it be?" And people always say Jesus. Frankly, if I'd been at The Last Supper I'd have been bored to distraction with him.
ME: So let me get this straight, you have no job?
ME: So you have no money?
ME: And you live with your Mother?
ME: Yo Judas, wait up.
End of chat.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Yesterday morning I apparently forgot my hands are still numb so I made fried eggs and ham and was swinging the pan like Rachael Ray and it all ended up on the floor. Thank GOD for the 5 second rule.
I spilled a gallon of liquid on my computer last night because I'm JUST THAT COORDINATED and now the keyboard is all sticky. So I'm taking a sick day. How is that different from every other day? It's not.
Pirates? Really? It's like we're starting the world over. I'm going to wait for Vasco de Gama to show up. I don't even know what he did or if he even came to the US. I also don't know if I spelled it right but I just like the sound of it.
I'm too lazy to Google. Again.
End of chat.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
I felt so left out because I couldn't blog about that.
I made myself a Metamusicle 2 days ago for breakfast. I bought some vanilla ice cream, let it melt and then stirred it in with the Orange Metamusil.
At midnight I woke up and was starving. I had nothing to eat because I shop every day. Because I eat everything that day. If I go out on a Sunday to shop for the whole week, it will all be gone by that evening. In another life I may have starved to death and my DNA won't LET ME FORGET IT.
All I found were pitted prunes. As if I'd never had a meal in my life, I ate a third of the bag.
5:00 a.m. I woke up with a stomach ache and felt some leakage and ran to the bathroom, looking over my shoulder at the disaster area I was leaving behind me and wondering if I should call 911.
"I'm leaking poop."
"You're doing what?"
"You heard me."
"We'll get a bucket over there right away, stay on the line."
"PLEASE don't send cute guys."
The worst part was that I was so confused I kept stopping and thinking "What if it gets worse and my intestines start to crown? THAT WON'T BE GOOD" So I created the Rocky Mountain Range of Poop starting from my bed, over a Romanian rug, into the hallway with regular blue carpeting, linoleum and when I had the bright idea of taking a shower, I left a trail to and from the bathtub and never once did it occur to me to sit on the toilet.
Orange you glad I didn't stop to take pictures?
End of chat.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Ken's the one who, after I had gained all that weight before my surgery, said to me wistfully, "I remember you when you had a flat stomach." That's him below with his rescue dog Sandy Blue.
Now he just says, "Girrrrrrl, lookin' good, lookin' good." He might only be saying it when I'm walking next to Gisele Bundchen. Which I never am. But he is forgiven. Plus, he's gained weight!
You know how I feel about artists, throw them a buck and you make their day.
Don't be cheap; it's ugly.
End of chat.
Monday, April 06, 2009
You can vote for as many humor blogs as you want. One vote for Cake (she tricked her readers with subliminal words like CAKE) does not mean you can't vote for me or Vodka Mom, my really annoying wife who doesn't understand that just because she has a husband and kids I need my laundry done.
Go vote for Braja at Lost and Found in India. She's in Best Entertainment Blog, Best Travel Blog, and Best Survivor of a head-on collision.
And don't forget to vote for Hottest Mommy Blogger, who is also in the Humor category, Baby on Bored's Stephanie Wilder Taylor WHO IS GOING TO BE ON OPRAH TODAY.
Pretend I'm Obama and vote.
End of chat.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
I never sweat.
I never had B.O.
I never used deodorant.
The first time I played Vegas, after 9 years of doing standup, I got flop sweat, which is a panic reaction to bombing. But I only got it on my right side. My ENTIRE right side. My ankles were leaking. The hair on my right side was drenched in water. I looked like a Before and After shot from an infomercial on How Not To Wash Your Hair. I bought deodorant and then never used it because it never happened again. I was a One Time Only Sweat Machine.
But Vegas made sense. My left side was dry, controlled by the right brain, the artistic part of the brain; I always thought I was funny, especially when I was drunk. But the left, logical side of my brain was sober. My agent said since he was trying to get me on The Tonight Show that I couldn't do my normal act, I had to try new, more clever latenighttelevision jokes. It was my first year in L.A. and I didn't know that agents are assholes. But my left brain knew. It knew his advice would be suicide for my first time in Vegas. And it was. After 3 shows out of 7, I went back to my regular act but I'd already buried my ass at Wounded Knee by then.
Then I gave up drinking almost 6 years ago. And I'd walk around everywhere thinking, MAN, who the bloody fuck is on the B.O. Express to Showerland?
It was me. Had I been too drunk to SMELL? The only problem was the bottle of deodorant I bought in Vegas and never used now, after 10 years sitting in one of my old makeup bags, smelled like antiseptic skunk. And not in a good way.
I started wearing men's deodorant. Armani's Acqua di Gio. I often wear his men's cologne with the same name. Now I wear deodorant and I want a medal.
End of chat.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Now it's kinda back and instead of my head leaping off the pillow, I'm dizzy whenever I get up. You know that expression When the student is ready the teacher will appear? Well apparently my teacher sends identical emails from Thailand. It starts like this:
Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo is a very common, but very distressing condition. Have you ever been so drunk that when you lie down on the bed the spinning rotation is so bad you grip the edges of the bed to stop falling off?
If this was a pop quiz, I think I'd ace it.
To understand BPPV, you have to understand the workings of your inner ear.
Dude, I don't understand ShamWow.
The natural movement inside the semi-circular canals of the ear is disrupted, so the fine hairs send the wrong signals to the brain, and being unable to work out which way is really “up” the sufferer falls over, totally unable to save themselves from hitting the floor. Debilitating and embarrassing!
Obviously they don't read my blog.
The commonest cause of interruption to the normal ebb and flow in the semi-circular canals is produced by “ear rocks”. These are made up of crystals of calcium carbonate, called “otoconia”. These “ear rocks” swish around every time you move your head.
So every time my father told me I had rocks in my head HE WAS RIGHT.
Is there any treatment? Yes there is, usually a series of maneuvers you are put through which are designed to move the ‘ear rocks’ around till they no longer cause problems. These are demonstrated by the balance specialists and usually result in around a 90 percent cure rate.
Who bets that I'm in the 10 percentile?
So even though I'd love to stay and chat, apparently I'm off to Bangkok to meet these people:
That blood type diet I talked about has been around forever. Type O's shouldn't have dairy. Fuckers. Sugar, booze and caffeine are out for me too. I'm afraid to read the other blood types because if one of them REQUIRES carbs, I'm going to Switzerland and having Keith Richards' doctor change all my blood. I don't think you can do that but I'm very persuasive when I'm naked AND carrying a weapon.
Lindy is a Type O Neg too and her body is amazing and she HATES carbs! But she'll eat some sugar sometimes and have wine. You'd kill yourself if you saw her body in a bikini. Oh wait, that's what I want to do.
End of chat.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
I had to borrow one of my sister's black strapless bras which I've decided to keep because I'm the oldest. I'm so glad I didn't have brothers. How do you convert a jock stap into a bra? EXACTLY.
The people on the upper levels were persuaded to jump to their deaths from a tenant's sister.
Tyra Banks used to live here with her boyfriend. After I talked to her I saw her head for the roof.
End of chat.