6:35 p.m.

We were supposed to go to our friend’s house tonight for a New Year’s Eve party but Sweety got stuck at work late and is getting sick with the sinus crud so we are staying home.

That’s okay.

I got my hair done today (adios, gray motherfuckers!), and my nails painted and put my makeup on (glittery eyeshadow. I love glitter. I don’t care if it looks stupid.) to await tonight’s festivities.

We’ve got fireworks! I love fireworks. LOVE FIREWORKS.

Star Jones in a bikini. I coulda prolly went my whole life without that. She looks like a mean person. Maybe she’s not. Maybe she just got stuck with that mean face.

I’ve got vodka with some tabasco and lime juice to squirt liberally into it. (thank you, Amy. You have put the “sauced” into “Happy New Year!”) And snacky foods. Holy mother of Pete. We’ve got some snacky foods. I took a video. Will post it tomorrow. Tomorrow starts my new “Sweety approved diet” and Fritos with sour cream and tabasco isn’t on it. Neither is pizza. Or cheese. Man, I wish I had some real Coke (ha! I typed “cock” at first) in a can. I might even cook up some biscuits. So I’m eating up tonight.

LB is in our bedroom, going on hour 8 of playing football on the Playstation (and I don’t normally let them do that. but we’re on school vacation, dammit.) and BB is in the living room with Sweety and me watching football on t.v. And I am tapping away on the keyboard. My plan is to sit her and type away (and bore the holy hell out of anyone that trudges through this later) and talk to you like you are really here. Okay, maybe not really here. I would be more fun if you were really here.

My iPhone jumped out of my purse today and landed on its face. It is now cracked. But it still works. It’s only one crack. Not a spiderweb. I’m going to stop talking about it or I will cry tiny tears. Phone. Fucking phone that you can’t get insurance for. Meh.

Sweety just slapped Tiny Dog. I am kicking his ass in his sleep later. I don’t care if he is letting her lick out his nose now to make up for it. I am a grudge holder. If Sweety whacks me in the thigh again – I’m hitting him in gut.

How long is this mother grabbing football game gonna last?

8:05 p.m.

Stinky Dog is rubbing her head on my leg like she’s getting ready to make sweet love to it. If you crawl around on my house on your hands and knees, you can see the trail of Stinky’s love.

Uh oh. Sweety whacked me in the thigh and when I went to whack him in the gut, I was too slow. I hit his hand instead. It’s not good when you don’t his someone full force where you planned on. It gives them time to get back at you. I’m fucked.

Dog the Bounty Hunter? They are watching that. I hate Dog. I don’t know why. He just seems holier-than-thou. He makes me want to puke.

8:15 p.m.

Stinky is still rubbing her head on me while her feet twitch violenty. Is this Basset Hound masturbation? I wonder if her coochie’s wet. I’m not going to check though.

*I am not even going to look at these posts until tomorrow. I will reply to comments then. I feel bad posting new shit without replying.

In: toast, woot! | | #