There's a pair of pink panties that I can't shake. They are too small for my shapely ass, and I keep placing them in my Goodwill pile. Yet, they keep appearing back in my underwear drawer. How can this be? I find it very perplexing. They fool me every time. It seems I naturally gravitate toward these pink panties, just to be disappointed when they go straight up my ass. Now that I have caught on to how crafty they are, I check all pink underwear for appropriate Grumple butt proportions. I'm smarter than underwear, dammit.
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Over the past couple of weeks, besides playing an inordinate (fine, embarrassing) amount of Angry Birds, my emotions have been splattered really high and grievously low with various levels of annoyances in between (like the slow demise of my crappy Dell laptop, and having to wait for my HP to arrive). At this point, I don't think I could bear to detail it all, but the high point was my trip to Vegas with my lovely girlfriend,Meggles, and the lowest was having to put Whoopis to sleep the day after I returned. Thus I am a mess, a jangling tangle of emotions. Oh, the weeping. The drunken weekend (so many of my friends were so pleased to see me giggling and sloshing about...though, I think I did scare one person with my exuberance, but eh, so be it) was a great escape, but I've been sitting in sober reality since Monday morning, and I don't like it very much.
The time in Vegas was blissful, and I wish those idyllic five days could continue on for months and months. I did not gamble a cent, and I toured the Hoover Dam. We shopped, cuddled, visited the Diamond Lounge nightly, enjoyed a "topless extravaganza" from a private, front-row booth, and watched a lot of The IT Crowd. For years to come we'll advise each other to sex it up, and ask who gave Kanye West's new album five stars (That's what I'm investigating!). Gary and his tooth thought we were cool, but his friend thought we were bitches. That's because we are a couple of heartbreakers, Meggles and I. Even if we aren't sexing it up.
Sorry for the inside jokes, but I simply cannot help myself.
To Whoopis!
________________________________________________________
Over the past couple of weeks, besides playing an inordinate (fine, embarrassing) amount of Angry Birds, my emotions have been splattered really high and grievously low with various levels of annoyances in between (like the slow demise of my crappy Dell laptop, and having to wait for my HP to arrive). At this point, I don't think I could bear to detail it all, but the high point was my trip to Vegas with my lovely girlfriend,Meggles, and the lowest was having to put Whoopis to sleep the day after I returned. Thus I am a mess, a jangling tangle of emotions. Oh, the weeping. The drunken weekend (so many of my friends were so pleased to see me giggling and sloshing about...though, I think I did scare one person with my exuberance, but eh, so be it) was a great escape, but I've been sitting in sober reality since Monday morning, and I don't like it very much.
The time in Vegas was blissful, and I wish those idyllic five days could continue on for months and months. I did not gamble a cent, and I toured the Hoover Dam. We shopped, cuddled, visited the Diamond Lounge nightly, enjoyed a "topless extravaganza" from a private, front-row booth, and watched a lot of The IT Crowd. For years to come we'll advise each other to sex it up, and ask who gave Kanye West's new album five stars (That's what I'm investigating!). Gary and his tooth thought we were cool, but his friend thought we were bitches. That's because we are a couple of heartbreakers, Meggles and I. Even if we aren't sexing it up.
Sorry for the inside jokes, but I simply cannot help myself.
To Whoopis!
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| Whoopis: 9/1/97 - 12/3/10 |
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