Psychobitch skipper flips her shit, hilarity ensues

Today I put the padlock on my bedroom door.

I bought it months ago. It was only a matter of time.

The events which led to its installation are, I feel, part of a larger trend.

I'll explain.

Experience has learnt me that there are 2 (two) groups to whom I am irresistible:

1. Old men. This means men 50+ my senior. They usually tell me how I look like an old movie star. I like to play offended and ask if they are insinuating that I need work done. Then I pull the outer corners of my eyes up so I look “Chinese.”

They usually don't get this. That's fine by me. They're the ones who need fresh lines, anyway.

But my geezers can barely climb stairs, let alone bang down my door.

The padlock is not for them.

2. teh crAzies.

My landlord, my roommate, any number of my boyfriends (kidding!), countless randoms... they all kind of zombie-shuffle into my life, vocalizing incoherently - but with such spirit - and showering me with lots of lurching attention.

Each one, totally nuts. And really, really into me.

Well. At first, anyway.

I would like to think it's because I'm a good listener. I fear, though, that it's because by now I too am corrupted with their stench.

They have been working away at me, trying to turn me to their side. Like magnets on a paper clip, rubbing, rubbing.

Can I blame my mother?

I blame my mother.

Anyway, I should have known what was coming when she – the roommate – started stealing my groceries.

Like, she took my peanut butter and wrote her name on it...so that I wouldn't use it anymore.

That sort of thing.

Next came accusations.

“My friend saw you out at the clubs wearing my pink and black and blue skirt.”

Ha! As IF!


Forget the part where I was "out at the clubs." That is just preposterous. But pink and black and blue? Oh god, the thing probably has ruffles. This is insulting.

No, I didn't take your fucking skirt. It's like 30 below, and it happens to clash with my waffled long underwear.

“But she's a REALLY GOOD FRIEND.”

How do you argue this?

After the skirt was the purple shirt. Then she started telling me -- and others! -- stories that were fabricated start to finish.

Like how she caught me coming out of her room one day and then I sat on the couch with my head in my hands and stared at the floor.

WHAT?!

Like I really want to go through her crap and steal her polka dot eighties revival cocktease clothes. They all smell like cheap fruity shampoo anyway. Harlot.

So she tells me this story, this story that never ever took place, and her eyes are all wide and googly and it's like she is totally convinced that this all actually happened. And the thing is, she is convinced of it because she is in fact totally delusional.

But not just delusional. Ebullient too.

Somehow she's bubbly even at her most severe. It gives me goosebumps.

She leaves this on my Facebook wall:

“Can you please stay out of my shit. Thanks! :)"

When I call her about it she giggles her way through calling me a "manipulative bitch." She mispronounces it too.

Like an evil doll.

Plus she has now gushed multiple threats to come and steal my stuff.

She could. She has a key.

Makes me want to pile all her ugly cotton-poly blends on her stupid fucking canopy bed and torch the whole business.

A padlock is easier though. Honestly, I think the only thing keeping me out of prison is sloth.

lol FUCK YOU xoxoxoxo!!!! :P

Traif

Last night some friends showed up at four in the morning to smoke weed.

Then Nick was like “I'm hungry” and pulled out a foil package from his pocket.

I thought it was chicken until I saw an eyebrow.

Not chicken.

Then I guess Ian decided that it was appealing, or he was drunk, or whatever, and there they were - two of them, standing in my living room, gnawing on scraps of a pig's face.

What do YOU have to live for, anyway

Almost every night I dream of saving my bunnies from danger. Most recently it was a fox that I had to dive tackle to keep from sinking its teeth into Bean's sweet stupid face.

Other times it's a boat, there's a storm and we're sinking. The bunnies are running around and I have to catch them and secure them with lifesavers.

Burning or collapsing buildings are another big theme; again, find the rabbits, grab the rabbits, get the rabbits out.

Others: earthquakes, cats sneaking into my apartment, knife-wielding psychos, the trenches of WWI, underwater adventure, the depths of depression.

Maybe if they were talking about Shaq

CNN, are you fucking serious?


Ok, forget that the tepid, media-constructed scandal of John Ritter's death is taking the front page yet again. Whatever. CNN is the USA Today of broadcast and online news. This is nothing new.

But "Swooooshes"?

I keep refreshing my browser to see if someone's going to catch it and change it. Nope.

I don't understand. Did Nike pay for it? Seventeen Magazine couldn't get away with this crap. Or maybe I'm just being an old fart. Maybe superfluous onomatopoeia is the new hot trend in professional journalism. Because news should be hip and edgy. Swoooosh.

What's next?

superfluousonomatopoeia

I'm not religious I'm just spiritual

This isn't me. Those boots stay inside the bedroom.

Smokin' Hot

Loxy Lady


I hear Jews eat lox and that's why there are no Jews in jail.

lolx

I will have two daughters and I will name them Grace and Poise

I skate good.

Not sure if it's clear what's going on in this picture, but this is me clutching Helen for support while trying to lift my skate as high as I possibly could.

I wanted to take a pretty ice princess picture.

The sad thing is, at the time it felt like I was in fact lifting my leg way high. I remember thinking "dude this picture is going to be siiick."

This is, of course, before I got to reenact that drowning polar bear scene in Planet Earth by falling through the ice into the gritty puddle of Parc LaFontaine.

When people ask about the bruises I think I'm going to tell them I play soccer. Yes. I am an athlete. That ought to cover it.

One day I will grow out of this awkward stage.

Helen sure hopes so.

"Fuck this shit."

LeXXXicon

Duke of Churl

Talk wordy to me baby

lol postsecret

(This may make no sense if you are not familiar with the intense inanity of postsecret.)

I'm crude but I'm cultured

I was looking for frozen yogurt recipes, I swear.

This is what I got instead:

“A healthy vagina is as clean and pure as a carton of yogurt.”

What a fucking image.

Gets better, too. It's followed by a page full of advice on how to get rid of vaginal infections.

Oh yes oh yes.

Got a yeastie? Fill 'er to the brim with yogurt to encourage the growth of friendly lactobacteria.

Still itchy? Cram a clove of garlic up there to kill those vag-nasties.

I say, both at once! Then masturbate with a cucumber and you can celebrate your healthy honeypot with a batch of homemade Tzatziki.

Twatziki.

TWO were left over in the sink after I took the trash out, and I had to flush them down the toilet to kill the stink

I may have already mentioned this, but my roommate is an idiot. Her most recent challenge was distinguishing between lettuce (she was going for iceberg, that gives you an idea) and cabbage.

She failed, and now I have her abandoned head of cabbage in my fridge. It's the size of a kickball and weighs like ten pounds, but I can't throw it out because I'd feel guilty. So here I am at 1am, hungry and googling “delicious cabbage recipes.”

Also, I found out what rotten chickpeas smell like. The wrath of God, that's what.

On Dating

Some random asked me out to a movie in the dairy section of the grocery store yesterday. I said no, but I was all like, "a date a date a date someone asked me on a date, I am so classy haHA" and then he was all like, "I'll PAY" and I felt a little less awesome.