An email I just sent

Hey, hey, hey it's Fat Albert!!!! No, I have no idea where that came from. Probably due to a serious lack of sleep and chocolate chip cookies. Most likely the cookie part. That and I just ate one of those Weight Watcher meals. Tuna Noodle Gratin. And just as you could expect, it tasted like ass. In fact I think ass tastes better. Although I wouldn't know because I've never tasted ass. And it's definitely not on my top ten things to do in life before I die. Tasting ass, no. Seeing George Clooney's ass in real life, yes. 

Just checking in and seeing how you are doing? Hope you are well and laughing your ass off at just how random this email is. 

Let's figured out the piano logistics soon okay?

Talk to you soon. I need to find me some cookies before I go ape shit on someone. PMS + stress = not a happy Nikki. 

Later!

Nik

(and just so you concerned people could be relieved I am in possession of cookies. Store brand chocolate chip cookies to be exact. Not bad. Not orgasm worthy. It'll do.)

Explanation please

Can anyone pretty please with a cherry on top please explain Taylor Momsen to me? Seriously. I do not get her. At all. First off isn't she 17 or so? I would lock my daughter up and throw away the key if at 17 she decided she needed to wear lingerie as clothes. Yes, obviously Taylor dresses like a 2 bit whore to get attention. It must work, because even a poor schmuck like me is wasting my valuable time discuss her wardrobe habits.

(Wait, give me a moment - I do have a point here. Somewhere.....)

What bugs the shit out of me with this public display of whorishness are the young impressionable girls that look up to Momsen and think that this is the way women need to display themselves to gain attention - that looking like you charge 2 bucks an hour is appropriate. Even more so, it teaches our young women that they don't have to value themselves. As a women and as a person.

So please Miss Momsen, do the young women of the world a huge favor and put some damn clothes on already.

Whino alert

Last Saturday I pulled my back out while trying to put together my daughter's doll house she got for her birthday.  I am obviously so filled with grace. The worst part? I am not in possession of any form of a muscle relaxer.

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You know what I hate? When you are driving down the expressway and some yahoo bigger then you, like a semi truck or a space ship, thinks they can just pull right in front of you in their attempt at trying to remove the front of your vehicle. You, being the ever safety nut, slam on your brakes, causing your phone to go falling on the floor and your expensive Starbucks coffee to spill everywhere, except that I don't drink coffee. I'm even bigger fucked because (see back excuse above) I can't reach my damn phone on the floor. That is if I don't want to get stuck on the floor of my van, trying to get my phone, all listening to my two year old, who loves her damn doll house thankyouverymuch, repeat over and over again "What doing Mommy? What doing?" To which I reply, "Trying to call the damn Mother ship sweetheart!" I can't wait for daycare's phone call when she repeats that line to her friends.

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That said, if anyone would like to share any of their muscle relaxers, I would be so inclined to accept. As would the damn mother ship.