I can’t decide whether this story is sad or amusing.
Mostly sad, I think. It’s actually possible to overdose on caffeine?
Highlight of my evening: Trying on my new yellow, push-up Grommet bikini from Victoria’s Secret and modelling for Jagerbomb, and then jiggling my ass cheeks for the full effect, followed by uncontrollable laughing for 15 minutes. Oh, it’s good to laugh at oneself. I better get used to the laughter.
Chelsea Handler is my new love in life. I just finished reading My Horizontal Life, and it was probably the most hysterical book I’ve ever read. I love Handler’s attitude. I love that she doesn’t give a fuck about anything, can be a huge slut, and is still the coolest person ever. I want to hang out with her for a day.
First I compared her to Tucker Maxx, except that doesn’t really do her justice because she’s a better writer (IMO — could be different from a guy’s perspective). They’re both crude, vulgar and horny. But Handler is just…wow. I adore her. I might have a crush.
Anyway, this book is entirely about her sexual escapades, and man, are they ever fantastic. Read it.
My incredibly mature male roomies have gotten into the habit of referring to my va-j-j as a piece of rental property. Yesterday, while cleaning the house from top to bottom, they spent at least 20 minutes discussing rent, plumbing problems, heating issues, and damage control inside my va-j-j. They even gave it an hourly lease.
I didn’t help the matter when I wandered into the living room about ten minutes later looking for my packing materials, and loudly asked, “WHERE IS MY BIG BOX?”