- I think a bug bit me on the eyelid. It’s not as sexy as it sounds.
- I joined a gym. Now I just have to go to the gym and work out. That’s how you see results, right?
- Sex counts as working out right? Does it count for more if you do it in a public place? (Sorry Mom, just ignore this. I’m only kidding!)
- I’ve been singing “I can bring home the bacon/fry it in a pan/never let you forget you’re a man/because I’m a w-o-m-a-n/that’s what I am/doing what I can” since Saturday night. My inner rapper wants to come out. Or that 1950’s housewife costume really got to me.
- My friend Hunter told me I am the strangest feminist he’s ever met. Maybe it was because I was standing in my kitchen in an apron (not in costume, mind you) making biscuits from scratch. (It’s because I am a w-o-m-a-n! Feminists can bake. I’m a righteous babe AND a good homemaker. So take that naysayers!)
- My friend Frankenfurter and I are setting up two of our friends. Upon discussing this match we realized that we are like the Wonder Twins of matchmaking. Two couples he set up are now married and one of my matches is married, the other living together. So when we discuss the impending meet up between our two pals we put our knuckles together in a “Wonder Twin powers activate!” kind of salute. Let’s hope they click!
- I am overusing exclamation points to hide my fatigue.
- I really should end this random post lest I be late for work again.
“If looks could kill you would be an uzi/You’re a shotgun – bang! whats up with that thang?/I wanna know how does it hang?/Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. Lover/Like prince said youre a sexy mutha- . . .Shoop shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop ba-doop ba-doop/Shoop shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop ba-doop ba-doop…” – Shoop, Salt ‘N Pepa