savana

Ok so I would apologize for my outright pissy-ness.. but at the moment, I just don't really care. I'm human, and even more then that- I'm a woman. I get cranky... what of it. WHAT? So without further ado... here's my version some kind of hate. First thing up for the firing squad? Our proof-reader here... she comes in every Monday and Tuesday, to do.... yup, you guessed it genius, to proofread the pages before they go out to press. Now that's all fine and dandy, I mean in the grand scheme of things, she's only here two days a week.. no big deal. HOWEVER.. when she is here, like right now... she's on her cell phone non-stop.. and it's not that since - really, in this modern era it's more of a "who isn't on there phone" environment, BUT she gets on her on phone, talking at the top of her lungs, in her overly forced, played up British accent... which makes me just want to shout at her "You've lived in the States since you were in your very early 20's.... your NOW IN your mid-50's!!" Nobody's buying it anymore! I moved out of Georgia in my late teens, and have since lost the majority of my drawl. It makes guest appearances from time to time, espeically after a couple cocktails, or if I'm sleepy.. then it creeps back in- but for the most part.. no southern drawl. Which bums me out, cause I actually love that damn thing. But that's my point, love it or not... I don't force it. So *hops on soap box* LISTEN UP Proof-Reader.. give it up or move back England. Damn.. OR actually, the lesser known 3rd option... just show some respect for those of us who don't give two shits about your hubby's soiree at the country club, or what your score was in your tennis match last sunday.. PIPE DOWN WHEN YOUR ON THE PHONE! Argh. Fortheloveofgod. The whole time I've been typipng this, I'm currently listening her to tennis stats.. OH and that she just made plans to meet up with someone named Tony, next Tues. What a little socialite eh? haha.. Actually, she's ok for the most part, but she just caught me in what most likely is a raging bout of PMS. Which, I hate to admit.. comes on the heels of the boy telling me for the last 48 hours that "I'm being weird" and me (naturally) adamantly denying it.. haha.. ummmmm.... there's a slim chance that he's right. BUT- I'll never admit it... not yet anyway. Let the pissy-nes pass THEN I'll own up to it. GRRR... hahahah.. I'm sure this all amazingly fasinating news for you folks... but hey- it's my Blog and I'll cry if I want. Neener neener..
Next up.. Paris Hilton. Ok.. soooooo last heard, she's found God, been consulting with a spiritual advisor, has grown and changed and now wants to give back to society... .WTF? My My My... how people change in a week. Good lord. Anyway.. well- I've grumbeld enough... here's the world's most retarded photo of me... but since I WASN'T going for smoking hot, I think I've achieved my goal...


OOPS.. actually this is the wrong photo.. this is actually one of my favorite photos of some of our girls promoting our Meet And Greet at the Car Show last weekend. From Left to right:
LuLu Lockjaw, Pipi Hard Socking, LD50, Eden Yourheartout, Malicious Monica (I don't know who the girl in the back ground is.. I mean I do, I just can't remember her name)





and with that... I leave you with a RABBLE, RABBLE, RABBLE...