Kittens On Rollerskates

It's not all fuckery. We also spend kind of a lot of time getting beautiful. See?

At the current time, which is 10:43 am on a Friday, which is a generally sweet time anyway, my house is full of just me and my dog and Radiohead. Look, I know what you’re thinking, that that’s super cool and perfect, but lately my house has been so much dag fun that I feel a little ignored somehow. Like, five minutes ago I was in bed with my devastatingly handsome BF while laughing at my roomie’s pretend situation that she was describing while she brushed her teeth in the doorway, like all leaned against it and creating tears in my eyes with her words. What kind of world is it when your fucking supposed best friend has to/would rather go to work than to continue to chatter at you about going to a pool supply store and saying “I am very wealthy, and I have many pools to decorate. I would like all of your vinyl pool-liner samples, and I would appreciate it hugely if you could just hurry the fuck up, as I have several important business items to complete today.” Bear in mind that she’s in an angry cupcake t-shirt with the sleeves cut off with her toothbrush rammed into her mouth the whole time. That is the way to start a day, ladies and jerks. Ooooh sweet the Pixies just came on, bonus round. Anyway, the reason we want said samples is to make cutouts of dinosaurs thinking obscene things in thought bubbles to decorate our dance party with (!!! http://www.citrusface.com/ewsick.gif !!!) which pushes the whole thing from giggle-silly to throw-up hilarious. If you’re me, I mean.

There’s been a lot of this type of fuckery afoot lately. My house has changed kind of a lot this summer. It used to be a trash hole that I came home to to relax and sober up, whereas now I go to Reservoir to relax and sober up (ha! ha!) before I head back to the trash hole, aka Unit B As In Bonerz (motto: Weeeeeee’re…Pretty Amazing.). This is where me and Bobo and Bestie live full-time and where I have sedated and restrained/convinced above-referenced boyfriend to hang out with me at night. As a result, I am underemployed and overstimulated, but that’s kind of my bag. Instead of the late night heart-to-hearts that I understand is normal for roommates based on every movie ever, we cause each other actual physical harm from dancing on each others cars or writing down the fully retarded things that the other says and making a Photobooth video from it and then laughing until we have to put our oxygen masks back on. Would you guys be upset if this blog devolved from a place where I try to actually write things into a venue for me to post these videos? I think probably I’ll settle for a mix. Huh.

So back to getting hurt from laughing, yesterday at the lunch at the Weave I got a lentil lodged in between my throat and nose (for like 45 minutes, ew sick!) because of this 100% sober (seriously) idea we had. So what had happened was, I was still in bed with BF one morning while Bestie was getting ready for work when the Fedex guy came to the door. It turned out to be for me, and I thought it might be the gold pendants shaped like jets that I ordered for us the other day, so I ordered Mule to bring it to me in bed. When I realized that it was a document of some kind, I got a little terror stricken at what might be inside, because BF was right there and I care if he likes me or not and what if it was like a subpoena or a summons of some kind? Like, “Your divorce has been ungranted and your DNA test came back, you are genetically horrible!”. So while we were at lunch we started talking about all the worst things that he could have found out about me, and here’s what we came up with:

Dear Applicant:

We regret to inform you that after reviewing the results of your recent physical, we have deemed you an unsuitable candidate for a baby seal-clubbing expedition of this scope. The reasons for this are almost too many to detail–the doctor who inspected you broke his arm in three places while writing up your report–and we kind of can’t believe you even agreed to this medical examination in the first place. That said, here are the highlights of why we must regretfully decline your application: 1. AIDS.  2. Hepatitis A-Z.  3. Cleft Pallet.  4. Brain Cancer/Club Foot Combo.  5. Pregnant With Six Babies By Five Different Men And One Pony.  6. Tadpole Infestation In Your Butt (Your Butt, Especially, Is Really Unhealthy).  7. There Is A 100% Chance That You Will Pass On Your Irresponsibility To Your Children.  8. Parasitic Twin That Controls Your Brain Who Indicates That He Hates You, But Loves Ponies, Like Wants To Love Them (see item #5).

Please Never Contact Us Again,

The Foundation For Destroying The Environment That You Keep Sending Your Resume To

So that for sure would be the worst case scenario. Turns out it was just a new debit card from my bank because the last one experienced getting violated in the form of being used to buy what I’m sure were tickets for terrorists–from Air Arabia, with a layover in Mumbai, before hopping on the Air India flight for an unplanned landing at the nearest heavily populated hotbed of religious contention. I made up the terrorism and hijacking parts, but the rest I swear is 100% true. So new debit card, sweet.

But like wow, right? You can see why our motto is what it is. I’ll leave you with the knowledge that our dance party is tomorrow, Saturday the 24th of July, at Reservoir at ten, and it will be every bit as stupid as we are. Like, projection screen playing Wayne’s World stupid. And actually it would mean a lot to us if you came, and you will mean very little to us if you don’t. So, have a good day!

speaks for itself.