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I’m gonna punch you in the ovary.
My god-awful job continues, where I sit in a catatonic state and occasionally mix it up with drool marching down my chin. I never quite manage to tune out cult boy (who drives me Kurt Cobain with his...
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Are you trying to Garfunkel me?
Why is it every time I look like a lesbian firefighter, that’s when Metro Prince (thus renamed) does a drive-by? I mean, honestly. The days I’m coiffed and captivating, where is he? It’s getting to be...
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That’s Hansel, he’s so hot right now.
Today I awoke looking like a cave woman, my hair between an afro and a high-five. Not as victorious as it sounds, folks. Ordinarily, this would be Gay Prince’s cue but he’s been interstate for a month,...
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Here comes the smolder.
Gay Prince made his return today, a veritable Vincent Vega in his pencil tie and Pulp suit; as welcome to me as the undies of Robert Downey Jr (on my floor come Sunday morning). And for once, I was...
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Damn the man. Save the Empire!
I feel weary. We’re talking, hiking up a pair of concrete undies with spindly Mr Burns arms, weary. Battle commander for the Alliance, stuck on a decimated planet ravaged by a decade of war, fighting...
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Do that voodoo you do so well.
I feel happy today. Like a jelly bean after a lavish spa treatment. It aint a Disney day, understand. But my undies are nevertheless alive with the sound of Cusack. The factors to my blissful briefs...
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What the wuc just happened?
I’m back. Like a chump who shows up to her bat mitzvah at 32. So. Um, how’ve you been? [Looks awkward and shuffles feet.] Good? You been good? Sweet Mary. The guilt I’ve felt for letting my wuc grow...
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Well, wuc me gently with a chainsaw.
So. This week’s been fairly Oliver Stone, I don’t mind sayin’. Or, as the kindly black man says to the portly, ultimately acquiescent Kellerman at the close of Dirty Dancing: lots of changes, old Max....
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Watch how good I fake it.
I met a beautiful man tonight. Beautiful in intelligence. Beautiful in eloquence. Beautiful in movie knowledge. Beautiful in spirit and garb. Ugly in unavailability. He was, quite simply: all that I...
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the wuc bytes – crazy stupid love
I feel full of pith. Like Pithy Longstocking, or Gladys Knight with a lisp. “Pith it out!” (To be whooped in titillated Tourettes.) This week, I’m doing my usual gig plus extra duties for the Big...
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Give my best to your wishful thinking.
I feel a wealth of sadness today. I’m not sure why. If I had to guess, I’d say there is desire and futility battling it out in my chest, with defeat as the veracious victor. It’s maddening that the...
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A wrecking ball… is something else entirely.
It’s come to this: I sit with a glass of red, my emotions in a rage. Love. Crippled hope. Fear. Futility. Exhaustion. Defeat. A daisy chain of disquiet. Tumultuous seas confined to the teacup that is...
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