faeriewench

I am an obscenely bitter woman at the moment.
Anyone up for some spite-sex?

Is a night of kleenex-movies, yes it is. Driving Miss Daisy.... Terms of Endearment... Philadelphia is up next, but I don't know if I can take it. Heh. I'm anxious and antsy and jumpy..... *knows full well what would help*

Heh.

I've started crocheting an afghan. Not a terrorist, though. I promise.

I need the beach.

Oh, for the next 50 minutes here in peachy peachy peach land, it's still exactly 2 months til my birthday.

*ahem*

Also appreciated would be donations of Djarum Black ciggies, handsome, unattached princes with wealth and castles and whatnot, Drew Barrymore nekkid, hot lovin', and a trip to Disney World.

Thank you, drive through.

*ponders*

So. Do I have any volunteers to come hang out with me topless and rub various potions on my sunburned back and shoulders? I have ridiculously pretty shoulders. Any takers?

Tra la!
Back to where I am most at home.
Shame I only get to stay til May... Plants are watered and fed, hampsterbaby is in his proper place, my picnic table in the courtyard is in the sun, I smoked like a motherfucker all week long at home, c'est la vie. What else could I possibly do but smoke and watch CNN??? I don't...
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I especially like that face. Things are odd lately. I seem to have taken up smoking, and I'm not sure how or why. Things happen without my giving leave...

Have you ever met an intelligent male stripper? It seems a rarity. I know piles and piles of brilliant girl dancers.... Hm. Double standard, methinks.



Spring break starts tomorrow after my morning class. I am doing...
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What do you smell like this very second?

My skin is ridiculously soft tonight.... Hrm.
It's also ridiculously hot in here.
I really have nothing of import to say...

*jumps up and down and waves her arms round and round and moons you*


Pay attention to meeeeeeeee!!!!!

*giggle*
Not an attentionwhore at all, no.

Shut up, you!

Tra la!
It is *ever* such the night for watching Dirty Dancing and getting smushed. I have a jug o' red wine just perfect for the Patrick Swayze and the Jennifer Grey and the getting totally maudlin.... Yep. Sing, cry, sing, cry, dance, sing, cry. Tra la, indeed.

Sigh.
Kathleen Turner knows the yummiest spot on a guy.
Whole scene in this movie, her head laying in the spot right where his ribs split apart..... Right where it's soft and warm and vulnerable.
That's where my head always goes. And my mouth.
*BEST* spot on a guy.


Christ, I'm lonely.

Happy Fat Tuesday, y'all.
*ahem*
:::shows you her tits:::

Indeed, now you've gotta send me beads. That's how it works.

I'm giving up clothes for Lent.

Oy vey jesus fuck.


*explodes from sexual frustration*