I am a Safe Person!
As we see here, I have new motorcycle-bitch-helmet-and-goggs. Tres sexy, no?
No? No, you say? Well, then. Fuckety you, you piece of crap. Why you lookin' anyways?
And, NO... these are not eggs in my eyes (as my boyfriend thought when he saw the photo). But What does that say about me? *snif*... I kinda like that my lovey believes that nothing is beyond me...Whoooo! Can I say Whoo again? So, WHOOOO!!
posted by Lorelei at 2:42 AM
11 Comments:
Jeebus H. Macy, girl--thanks for tellin' me you was up n' runnin' again...SHEESH...
The helmet reminds me of when I was in 6th grade and we went to some 'home' for 'chronically special' kids. And there was this skinny little black kid who was a self-abuser and he always had to wear a helmet so when he rammed his noggin into the walls (and he did--regularly) he wouldn't get hurt. Surprisingly though, he didn't have a face mask--so that's where he took it out on himself--giving himself upper-cuts n' such. Loud cracking noises--very disconcerting.
I like to limit my self-abuse to internal beatings, as you know.
Workin' on that though...
Anyhoots, welcome back to blogland, my girlie girl. Let's get the banter back on!!
Huh. You so supportive of me, Effie.
I'd tear up right now, but between the mud-mask on my face and the heated bullshit floating thru my window from the drunken hispanics across the alley which makes me want to whip dogshit at 'em...
...I guess it's time to wipe the mask off my face. Safer, no?
Can't you just throw the mud mask remnants at them?
Speaking of which, my band, Mud Mask Remnants ( a David Byrne tribute band) is playing this weekend at the Cubby Bear.
Love your site.
Gotta go though, my football helmet is clean and I need to give myself a shiner before bed.
Ya gotta go polish your knob?
If memory serves you never needed a football helmet to do that before...
... and I never needed one, either 8^)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, if I remember correctly, memory rarely serves you smarty-britches.
I forget, how many years did you "visit" the home for special kids?
It's always a good idea to wear a football helmet for noggin-rammin.
Lorelei, welcome back to the world of blog. Don't know where you were, but Laura seems like she's really glad you're back. She honked the short-bus horn three times more than usual when it pulled up at my house today.
Somebody request a plague on their web-space? I also do pestilence(s?), pestuli? Yeah, I'm annoying.
But I fear I can't help myself, as you are named after a famous Siren, and my ship, as with so many others is drawn to your haunting song. Only to be dashed against the rocks of course, but you probably are no longer surprised by how many of us are into that, or run when it doesn't happen after several months.
So you go right on singing. And of course I'd drop by a place like this. Anyone who uses the phrase "fuckety-fuck" in her blog has reached her target audience. I remember thinking, she has a bit of the poet in her, but having noticed that herself, she's trying to cover it up with a copy of Hustler. You go you poopy-mouthed princess!
The Mud Mask Remnants new album drops this Tuesday. Oddly enough, the title is "All These Fields Are Optional".
Sweetness! And you, as well, should keep yer eye peeled for my upcoming debut in my role as siren raunchlet in my new pop trio, "Monkeys on Typewriters".
We're awesome. And between sets we fling poo at eachother and the audience. Think of it as a toned-down Gigi Allen act.
I'm intrigued, although a toned-down Gigi Allen is an oxymoron. There was only one way to tone down that Gigi, and that was to kick the oxygen habit.
Remind me to bring my old poncho I'd wear to the Gallagher concerts.
Flinging Poo, Sledge-o-matic, whatever, fun is fun.
I've actually seen you guys a few times. How does your bass player get his ass that pink and swollen before going on stage? (he asked, tossing her a perfect straight-man pitch)
Karl, there are certain trade secrets we never divulge.
That's why they're called "secrets", you foolio.
Aw man, ants in the ice cream. What fun is a secret that you won't tell?
Cmon, I can keep a secret. Just ask anyone. Well, not anyone, keeping a secret is a trial and error kind of thing, but I'm really good at it now!
"Time-Life books presents outlaw apes of the old west."
"That's John Wesley Ape. He once threw crap at a man just for snorin'!"
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