it's like shitting - just let it go right on the couch

Ok so I had this dream the other night that I was dating Damien Rice. I don't know where or how we met but all of a sudden he was sweet on me and me him and we were this out of nowhere couple complete with me being included in all of his TV interviews. He was promoting his 9 album and I'd sit there next to him all cute, constantly looking back and forth between him and whoever was interviewing us (Larry King, once) and smiling and laughing and he'd put his hand on my leg and squeeze it when he was embarrassed . Sometimes I'd answer questions, but they were always about him like "What do you guys watch on TV?" and to that I replied "We watch Curb Your Enthusiasm but I'm pretty sure he only watches it for me and that he hates Larry David. The big story wasn't his new album though, it was the fact that Damien was dating a non Hollywood/music industry type like me. He kept calling me "a regular" and when asked how he felt about that he'd say that it was totally fucking awesome dating "a normal" like me except he didn't say 'totally fucking awesome'-instead he'd use some obscure Irish antidote that nobody understood, not even me. He'd say we do all the things "the normals" do like lick our fingers after we eat Doritos and hike Mt. Tam and fuck in the shower. Of course I would blush when he'd say the word 'fuck' but only because we did fuck in the shower. Maybe it's because he liked to immediately wash "the normal" pussay off of him, idunno. And none of that bothered me because I knew he was a rebound for me anyway and I knew that he'd soon break things off all dramatical-like so he could go off and date a younger blonde chic with no ass. Yeah, that was all fine with me because I had my eye on Harry Osborne and Harry is local and spending weekends in Ireland was often tiring. Plus Harry is more emotionally stable than Damien anyway so what the hell, right?

I love it when Richelle has the nerve to call me a whore and to keep my legs closed.

go all slappy-town on him

You should know that I'm still here, in fact it's kind of like I'm back and in the best way you can imagine which means living life the way it's meant to be lived. One thing you should know about your Jades is that it's important to NOT FUCK WITH ME because the mind fuck that comes back your way is brutal and I hate crybabies. Also, Dan will kill you on my word and I don't think you even want to get any hamper action all over your stupid face. So this weekend I had this dinner party for my mom and the fams is drunk on margaritas and playing Cranium and it's my turn to do a humdinger (not code for dirty things). I'm just mentioning this because I am Queen of the Humdingers (in every way you can think of) and believe me you will guess that song in 2 notes. Also, I wish my karaoke skills were up to this level. I think one difference is that I don't spit during humdingers (same thought as before) so everything is beautiful clear throat action. I was going pee earlier. That's not all! I pulled around the little strings that tie around the back of my shirt so they wouldn't dip into the tank and they were warm. I'm guessing it's because they were nestled in my asscrack. HAMPER!

Moving on.

freaking is not a crime

Can we please fucking talk about something else around here? I mean if you're going have your mind consumed with something then, for the love of balls, let it be about something good. Or minty. Seriously, you guys have a problem. WTF. I have to think of a new diet plan. Currently I walk around my house in a bikini so that every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror I stick my finger down my throat. I have tons of mirrors up in my house, maybe one on every wall. I have to because I'm gorgeous and I was told that's what the beautiful people do. Just kidding about the purging thing, btw, you're forgetting I'm also very cheap. Anyway, you'd be surprised to find out that I somehow became a total lightweight when it comes to booze and that all of a sudden one pint has me acting like I did on a half dozen dirties. I mostly blame the running and you should too. Please don't be disappointed. ps-ruffies still work on me. I should be leaving for Vegas tonight but fucking shocker-I'm not.

Here is where I was going to show you me as the Mad Hatter on Halloween but I can't because it's too fucking funny mostly because my nipple was showing.

I thought guys liked having big necks?

I should seriously consider becoming the girl Magnum PI because I am a super detective. I pretty much already have the 'stache for it so I'm only a hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators away from owning my own PI business. Seriously, I would earn so many dollars-US, like enough to buy myself my own beach, a Baskin Robbins store, a hammock, and maybe a cool skateboard every month. I know you're probably doubting my skills right now but give me a test assignment and I sweat to god I'll come through. Yeah, I said sweat. Now this kind of newfound skill is both awesome and depressing or what some of you might call bittersweet because I have been know to work for myself on an occasion or two, finding things that make me feel like like I got punched in the stomach by Fatso's hairy fists of furry. Not awesome. I'm glad I finally got to change the Italian mosaic picture on my calender. Again , bittersweet because I no longer have to glance up at that dick mosaic man looking past his fine woman anymore-but now that brings me closer to Pearl Harbor day. And believe me peeps, bombs will drop again that day, not atomic, but of the jades variety. You will NOT enjoy having the jadesbomb drop on your stupid receding hairline either because it will hurt worse than when I kick your low-hanger balls. Fuck. I haven't decided which will come first though-any thoughts out there? Moving on. Ah yes, moving on. It will be nice and sad and kind of gives me gas. Horiz? You feelin me on that one? But really, moving on. I'm thinking about ditching my vibrator. It's cold and doesn't bend and my hands are way cuter anyway. Actually my hands look like old lady hands so I can get a better picture of what it'll be like when I'm 67 and still groping myself. HOT! No, not hot so maybe I'll just wear gloves. How dainty! I was the Mad Hatter for Halloween. 3 things pissed me off about Halloween. The fact that I may or may not be getting sick was not one of the 3 because I am totally used to that. When I was a kid I was sick on Halloween from age 9-14. Swearsies! Ok so that first year I wasn't really sick, I just had 7 teeth pulled so I was all doped up and drooling all over the brown and yellow vinyl kitchen floor.

I'm also giving up food.