'Get It Done'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Let's not forget that Cindy managed to RUN HERSELF OVER with a van (I think -- maybe just a car, but still, a large vehicle).
There was the time at school where I tried my hand at throwing a javelin, and hit myself in the back of the head. I'm still fairly proud of that one. Never run myself over, though.
I sliced my hand open trying to cut the Keds tag off a pair of shoes so I could superglue them onto a pair of no-brand white oxfords.
Our Memorial Day menu:
Chicken breasts in a peach pineapple salsa with garlic and Tapito sauce.
Redskin potato salad with an Italian dressing/Miracle Whip dressing
Dijon and molasses baked beans
Beef and Cheddar brats with sauerkraut
corn on the cob
Fruit cobbler
Wow...and here I thought I held the title for Stupidest Self Injury. You guys put me to shame. All I've got is breaking my leg in half playing paintball.
possibly cereal:
My best friend in college super-glued her contact to her eye, and then (squeam alert) ripped her cornea mostly off trying to remove the contact. Her husband only had a scooter, no car, so she went to the hospital with her cornea flapping against her cheek.
Now I'm heading to Aimee's for leftovers.
Pfeh. Last night I drank a lot of champagne to recuperate from burglary and then I woke up with a migraine and took a nap and now I am tired and migrainy and STILL my jewelry is gone.
I forgot - deviled eggs, too.
C'mon Raquel! And you don't even need baby equipment! We have it all! Even diapers!
here I thought I held the title for Stupidest Self Injury. You guys put me to shame.
No kidding. All I've got is dropping the phone on my foot when I was fifteen and breaking my little toe. Although I did give myself a black eye once when I didn't realize the freezer door was swinging back at me.
now I am tired and migrainy and STILL my jewelry is gone
Betsy, that just sucks. I can't imagine what it's like to be stolen from. Maybe a long bubble bath and some good tea would help tonight?
Congratulations on the offers Kristin. I am sending you all sorts of good wishes for finding happiness and serenity in change.
Erin, the boy was clearly crazy and in no way deserves you. Especially not for good, clean, kinky fun.
This morning, I called Bec for the first time since my mother died. It was a good conversation. It's still just so easy to talk to her.This is nice, billytea. I am glad you had a good weekend and that you and Bec still have that comfort level.
Buffista babies are just way too cute and pretty.Truer words, not spoked.
I approve of the mom talk.As do I.
It makes me want babies.Doesn't make me want babies though. Well, it makes me want to *borrow* babies and Buffistas make good and borrowable babies...
Being robbed is just such a violating feeling to me. Though mostly it has just been cars. I don't know how much worse / different it would be if it was my home. I am glad, at least, that you still have the most sentimental object Betsy...
Has anyone tried the Aveda Inner Light tinted moisturizer?
--
I am back home.
The time away was lovely. It was a nice vacation and there was some almost catharthic quality to it even. I am very glad that I went.
Also got a present of a River T-shirt that tickled me ten ways to Sunday. (My host gift was a bottle of Firefly wine that is actually a lovely lovely wine, with a rocking name.) And a keychain. But that was swag from the theatre, not my host.
The world, however, continues to amuse itself with me as there was a fiasco that I had to deal with when I got back. But it went shockingly smooth compared to what it could have been.
Who knew I would be so thrilled with the idea of going to work tomorrow? Cause I totally am...
My life went through a lot of intense, painful change exactly five years ago and it seems to be doing so again. I am shedding my skin again.
Last night I drank a lot of champagneI have Prosecco to toast the Letter of Intent and surviving the mess I came home too. But I am TiFaux watching the Indy500 first because I was a bad race slut and was flying halfway across the country when it was on live. I think the Prosecco comes later. Hopefully with a really hot bath and a cabana boy to rub my back. And Aimee's leftovers.
Most ironic self injury:
Cutting my hand on the edge of a metal first-aid kit that I was going into to get a bandage for a scraped knee.
Second most ironic self injury:
Navigating icy conditions all day, on foot and in car, with nary a mishap, only to trip on a cat toy when I get home, thereby requiring four stitches in my chin.