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raybearOn Saturday night, I stayed home and Raymundo borrowed my house keys and Sean's belt and went out to a club called The Gaping Maw where apparently he drank several bacardi silver malt liquor beverages and made out on the dance floor and couches and in the champagne room with several hot individuals. At one point, even with two at the same time. Raymundo gets around. He claims it's the gold chains and (fake) Gucci glasses that drive the folks wild. I envy his natural sleazy charm. And in case you're wondering, but without COMPLETELY kissing and telling, the following people might be getting some testimonials (in alpha order): ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drinkasyoupour, freakysparks, herownsociety, vimandvigor.
No sex in the champagne room.
Yesterday I went shopping at Target and spent too much money and came home and nearly broke all the things I bought while attempting to implement them into my home. I realized that I am in some ways very much used to living alone, because when I struggled to install curtain rods or find the proper code on the universal remore, I would swear and holler and then get suprised and annoyed when someone would come to check on me. I mean, what are they going to do? Stay in the kitchen and ignore the expletives from from the bedroom? Of course not. But my salty inner domestic would still bristle unconsciously, maybe in part because I was even feeling embarassed that someone was viewing me in an annoyed state of being.
I worked off lots of cranky energy stored in my body by helping Riley and Kathy move their earthly belongings out of a truck and up three flights of stairs. I was simultaneously panicky about the prospect of me having to do this for myself soon while also motivated to clean out my apartment of heavy things like books before packing myself up. I actually enjoyed the physical labor aspect, including the full body drip of sweat and heady swoon of repeated physical tasks. We had a good crew who understood assembly line movement while also accomodating for injuries or restrictions or even the need to stop for two minutes and get water. Their apartment is extremely snazzy and I look forward to seeing it in it's full glory when they've arranged their life.
This morning while drinking orange juice out of the carton like a heathen, I noticed Lynx has a jar of bread-and-butter pickles and the brand name is "Bubbie's". This makes me smile. I call Sophie "Bubbie" all the time. And also freakydeak. And trouble. And mija. And dingo. And sometimes baby girl. She probably has an identity crisis from the number of names I give her.
drinkasyoupour, freakysparks, herownsociety, vimandvigor. No sex in the champagne room.
Yesterday I went shopping at Target and spent too much money and came home and nearly broke all the things I bought while attempting to implement them into my home. I realized that I am in some ways very much used to living alone, because when I struggled to install curtain rods or find the proper code on the universal remore, I would swear and holler and then get suprised and annoyed when someone would come to check on me. I mean, what are they going to do? Stay in the kitchen and ignore the expletives from from the bedroom? Of course not. But my salty inner domestic would still bristle unconsciously, maybe in part because I was even feeling embarassed that someone was viewing me in an annoyed state of being.
I worked off lots of cranky energy stored in my body by helping Riley and Kathy move their earthly belongings out of a truck and up three flights of stairs. I was simultaneously panicky about the prospect of me having to do this for myself soon while also motivated to clean out my apartment of heavy things like books before packing myself up. I actually enjoyed the physical labor aspect, including the full body drip of sweat and heady swoon of repeated physical tasks. We had a good crew who understood assembly line movement while also accomodating for injuries or restrictions or even the need to stop for two minutes and get water. Their apartment is extremely snazzy and I look forward to seeing it in it's full glory when they've arranged their life.
This morning while drinking orange juice out of the carton like a heathen, I noticed Lynx has a jar of bread-and-butter pickles and the brand name is "Bubbie's". This makes me smile. I call Sophie "Bubbie" all the time. And also freakydeak. And trouble. And mija. And dingo. And sometimes baby girl. She probably has an identity crisis from the number of names I give her.
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If you don't have my money, I shoot you in de face.
Date: 2003-07-14 11:25 am (UTC)I write: So says Chris Rock.
P.S. Bacardi Silver(And all related Malt Liquor Drinkie Poos) are in my opinion, yucky! glad to hear someone can stomach them.
Cheers, Nemo
My cats have the same identity crisis
Date: 2003-07-14 11:27 am (UTC)Daisy is called Crazy, Lazy, Crazy-Daisy, Baby Daisy, Happy Daisy, etc.
April's cat Zeus is called Zeusy Love-Nuts, Zeusy Long-Bottoms, and various other add ons.
RedRider and Ghostmonkey's cat Belarus is just called Belarbutt. Her one ass cheek is tan colored, the other is black. It's funny.
I especially like Mrs. Fatty Chunks, because I got that from July 4th weekend when my Mom called loveingly my Dad Mr. Fatty Chunks as a term of endearment. I love my parents, they are so insane. Daisy and Tang come to you when you call their names, but they come to anything that rhymes with it as well.
I'm rambling....sorry....too many work meetings today....
- Q. Fatty-Chunks
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Date: 2003-07-14 04:35 pm (UTC)Alf had so much fun at the Gaping Maw.
I hear he had a great time in the bathroom
with Raymundo... meow...
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Date: 2003-07-14 06:26 pm (UTC)Yes, Trina came home Saturday night swooning over that hot doorman, Raymundo. And her pink lipgloss was mysteriously worn away.