Not my fault people.....

Some are concerned with the amount of swear words that, at times, can grace the pages of my wee little bloggie. I would like to say, that THIS time, it is not because I have no other adjective to use to get my point across. Nope. THIS time, when you read the dreaded f-bomb on my blog it will because I fell in love with a bumper sticker that I saw on the car in front of me today.

It read(and I quote) : I fuckin' {heart} fuckin.

Good stuff. Good stuff indeed.

Very entertaining.

This blog made me giggle out loud at some of the images. Pretty cool.

Faces In Places

I am so sick of this thing...

It's no secret that Dennis Rodman lives here behind the Orange Curtain in OC. Yes, OC, not "The O.C." Do you say "The L.A. ?" No. You don't. So don't call it "The O.C.", it's OC.

Now that we have THAT cleared up, Dennis, he lives down here. Why, I have no idea. Because of all places in California, Orange County is probably one of the most conservative. Anyway, he drives this fucking Hummer that's specialized to say the least. You can't miss it when it's on the road. I am so sick of seeing it. He works out at the gym just down the street from my house and RIGHT next to my favorite place of all time, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. So if I visit my blessed little coffee shop, I have a 50/50 chance of NOT finding a parking space because Dennis Fucking Rodman likes to park his Hummer in about 3 spaces out of like 6 that is right next to the Coffee Bean. No. He doesn't park in the gym parking lot. It's too far away. Which again, seems to defeat the purpose of wanting to get some exercise if you are unwilling to make the longer walk to the gym from the slightly distant parking lot.

What I am getting at, is this little bitty article from TMZ pissed me off, because to you all you folks out in Dana Point, I can like, totally relate and stuff. But for the record, I cannot relate to you because you are handicapped/ possibly retarded and then shouldn't be driving any. No, I can just relate, because I think Dennis Rodman is a parking prick. That and he has cut me off TWICE leaving that parking lot. FUCKER!

The NY Times always pleases.

It's my deep addiction to news and reading and damn can them NY Times writers write and stuff. They be good. Always a treat. But this article captivated me. I find this article fascinating. Couch Surfing. I would do it in a heart beat. I would love kinda travel adventure.

My husband? Not so much. He is such a party pooper. Or in this case a couch pooper I guess.

On a up note - planning on visiting Croatia next August. Should be interesting. Though I am sure the King will not allow me to sleep on a strangers couch while there. Again. Total couch pooper.

Happy N.T.L.A.P.D

Yep. Juuuuuuuust like last year - it's National Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Rape, Pillage and Burn muther fuckers....arr...

Will you marry me?

I just got asked to perform a wedding ceremony for someone! I am going to officiate a wedding people! I am totally scared outta my mind! You see I have never, and I do mean never, had stage fright. I didn't think, until now, that it was physically impossible for me to. If you met me, you would understand why. I am little freaky like that. Speeches in school ? Not a fucking problem. Public speaking in any form? Lay it on me. Never a prob. I love me the spot light.

But - performing a wedding!? I have to be serious. Sensitive. Thoughtful. I don't think THOSE traits are within me. Kinda like O.J. has no sense of right or wrong. Same thing, just not murderous. No, more humorous. Deadly funny maybe. Who knows.

Anyway. I need to go get ordained. I think you can do it through the Universal Life Church online. And you can pick your name. I want to be Reverend Ass Whooping. Or maybe Reverend Queen of Annaland. Or maybe Reverend Fishfucker. The possibilities are endless.

I have my own little Prince advent calendar

I have been counting down the days religiously. I checked off each day in my planner with a sparkly purple pen anxiously awaiting the Day. The Day I speak of is next Saturday. The Day, I will be attending a Prince themed costume party.

YESSSSSS, I shall be dressing like the Purple One. Everyone there will. I cannot wait. It will be a sea of Prince's. All joining in unity to celebrate the Artist Formerly Known As Prince, Then Known As Prince Again And Now Just Called Prince Like He Had Never Weirdly Changed His Name In the First Place.

I shall have lace, heels, a raper 'stache and the need to make doves cry in the purple rain.

It will be the Queen of Annaland's Purple Reign. (Get it, reign, rain...? Like I just now, right there did a witty and cool play on words. Like it's my reign as queen and the rain from the sky... never mind.)

Anyway - I hope the party shall emulate this. (And you MUST watch if you have never seen it.)

I cannot WAIT for Heather Armstrong to talk about THIS

I am just not sure what to say.

'Eww!' No that's not right. How about 'Huh?!' Nope. Doesn't work either. How about 'Oh my fucking GAWD! I don't know whether to be turned on or lock my door and turn off my porch light in case they come knocking!'

Yes. That seems to fit. See for yourself. LORDY - that's sexy.

Grateful for new appliances

It occurred to me today as I filled my new refrigerator with the limited amount of food I had stored in the previous one (the previous one, that is sitting in my back yard- YES.. you read that right, in my backyard, right next to my bedroom patio door and the potted plumeria)that I am grateful that I no longer have to get clothes on if I want to get a tasty snack at 3 AM. You see, there is always the off chance that at 3 AM at my house that my nocturnal lesbian neighbors may be out in the back yard mowing the lawn, painting the shed or smoking their umteenth cigarette before turning in ... at 3 AM. So you must risk giving a peep show for the convenience of nighttime nudity and snacks.

So as I loaded up my new fridge that is IN my house, like even in the kitchen and stuff, I shed a tiny, happy little tear of joy and pride that we have come as far as we have in this evil, head splitting, chew you up and spit you out remodel.

Yippee, I can eat pizza in the nude in the middle of the night. Big change, since normally I just eat it naked at 11am, inside Shaky's - so I can avoid the lunch rush.

I asked the King last night...

and he said he WOULD have agreed to do this too at our wedding if we had thought of it. I want to invite these two over for beer and to a little dance off... they would be fun and I am sure they would let me shit talk them as we played.



I also once saw and entire wedding party dance out the Thriller video. Kicked ass. I would BEG to be a bridesmaid in a wedding if they promised we would do THAT! Even if it meant I had to wear a purple polka dot bridesmaids dress.

Uh huh

"You smell that? Do you smell that? Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for twelve hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like... victory. Someday this war's gonna end... "

yeah... I am drunk

Sometimes I just aint a smart ass. Really.

You grow older and learn that your wants are simpler than you ever imagined. You realize all the big dreams you had when you were young are still relevant, but the big things aren't as , I dunno, big to you. Important yes, but there is something that is just as important. The littlest of things - they are just as wonderful.

Coffee in the morning in my backyard with my husband is just as good as any of those "Big things". Hell, even better in many ways. We have a stereo system outside so we will listen to yummy music (not too loud) and enjoy the break of day. This is my favorite song to hear float in the wind on those mornings.

Actually all the time. It's one of my favorite songs ever. Always makes me smile.

Enjoy people.

Incredible Hulk

After two months of lifting 5/8" sheets of drywall it has apparently added to my bufftitude. Over the brutally hot weekend, we moved some of our larger furniture back into our house after having it absolutely barren for something like 18 weeks. 18 very long and mean weeks.

I was excited to have a LIVING ROOM again. You know. To LIVE in? Yay! I remember moving it out in the first place and how brutal it was. Our couch, to me, weighed a million pounds. It was bulky and awkward to move and my husband had to baby me and take it slow moving it in stages so I didn't drop it since it out weighed me by like TWO TRILLION POUNDS.

Moving it back in? I did it with one hand. Honestly. I had to open doors and move things so I held it with my left hand and manuevered around locked doors and extra chairs with the other. It was a breeze.

We sat it in our new living room and with out even batting an eye I went to pick up one of our armchairs on my own as my husband sat on the couch. An arm chair that was so brutal for me to move the last time that I dropped it and started world war three here at the Land of Anna. This time. Like butta', like butta' people.

I am the Incredible Hulk in so many ways. Like, for instance, you won't like me when I am angry. I have a thang for purple pants. For some reason my closet is full of shredded pairs. Not sure how I brutalize them. Hmm. I also look great in a black haired bowl cut. Really. I wear it all the time. ALL the time. Me and the Hulk. We are one. Don't believe me? Then check THIS out.