Bhh was Fun. Great great fun. Not uproarious jump-around-in-a-circle-and-shake-your-booty fun, more sit around drinking pink drinks with smutty names and clown around fun.
Lulu, I take what I said back. The woman without a link is not a seven. I thought her left eye was the most beautiful eye I’d ever seen until I looked at her right one, then I was at a loss. I’m hoping that after she reads this, IF she reads this, she’ll friend me on facebook and go on a date with me. I’m hoping.
On Sunday afternoon, after I’d been to church, after I’d held hands with a lady called Esther and promised to go for new life classes (so that my tipsy, giggling unserious salvation can finally get a grip), I CURSED. I cursed like a sailor with tourettes. I cursed like a fool, like a fool looking to blow her internship. I said: FUCKED UP. I said SHIT. I said BADASS (kk scowled at me, so I think that was bad.) I said JERKED OFF (but only because Rudende said tea bagging. He said teaBAGGing for fundament-hole-fisting’s sake!!!!)
I cursed because they ganged up on me. They backed me into a corner. They said: Be quiet Mildred, the cool people are speaking and Mildred, Why don’t you give up on radio? Why don’t you go home? You remind us of Kendra. They tempered with, kicked, tickled and boxed my ego’s ears. They were being nasty, man. And I was being a bad sport as usual. Sigh. Then I cursed.
They started being nicer after that. I say nicer because kk stopped sneering (and spitting his un-witticisms at us (I think he has a crush on rudende!) ) and Rudy-buoy put his act away long enough to say ,“Mildred, you’ve got to be a better sport. You have to hit back without showing the world that you’re angry. Loosen up, this is only a gag for radio.” He’s nice and cute-ish and he’s got proper smarts, so I hope he’ll be there next week.
If I pretend to have A.D.D, can I switch from topic to topic like an A.D.DER? I can switch without pretending even. I think. I think. *nod nod*
When I was in the car with father today, he whispered, “take heel and let loose” or something like that. Whenever he’s itching to show his badass traffic-law flouting prowess, he says that “take heel” thing.
When I ask him about it, he says that sometimes a certain spiritual something gives him the go ahead to overtake cars and drive in wrong lanes. Nowadays I’m always praying for the owners of the lanes that he be’s misusing to come claim them. I’m always hoping for him to get in trouble. This is bad manners. He’s a happy man who whistles and breaks rules, things that should make me proud.