So. My landlord and I have been talking in circles for about a month. Now I'm annoyed. Thus, I bless all my blog readers with a copy of the letter I'd really like to send to him.
Dear Dipshit:
I'm writing you. Again. Because guess what? We still don't have heat. I woke up this morning and almost poked my eye out with a nipple because it was so fucking cold. I understand that you are a very busy and a very stupid man, thus I will try to use small words. Fix my heat. This is insane. It is almost November, and I am cold. Even the mice that once graced my apartment with their presence have left for warmer places. The reasons we keep blowing fuses? My space heater. I am cold. You're an idiot. Last night I woke up at 3 AM, freezing off my bits and pieces. That's it, I decided. I'm gonna do it. I was fully planning on sticking my head in the oven and ending it all...when I realized that the oven was fucking broke too.
Jesus Christ Bob.
Get Your Ass Over Here Now,
Clarissa
Apartment #5
Friday, October 31, 2003
Thursday, October 30, 2003
So, I was off wasting time on the internet like I normally do when I should be doing productive things, when I came across this: Bangable?
Now, I am not one to judge. I am not gods gift to men or anything. But you should see some of the people who made their top ten.
Ugly. UG-LY. Not even ugly, circus ugly. One of them has chest hair hanging out of his shirt pimp style, sporting a smile that makes him look like he's getting goosed. Another picture is simply the neck down of a hairy person in a thong. Nasty.
However, the rest look damn good. (My suggestion? #2 in the towel, or #9 in his undies).
What was I saying?
OK yea. Although there are some gorgeous gorgeous people on those sites (#2 is now the wallpaper on my computer), I will never understand what drives people to post their picture on the internet and let the huddled sweat pant clad masses judge how good looking they are from the safety of their computer desks which are most likely covered in cheetos and pizza boxes.
The only people who are allowed to judge how I look had best be better looking than me, or there will be hell to pay.
Now, I am not one to judge. I am not gods gift to men or anything. But you should see some of the people who made their top ten.
Ugly. UG-LY. Not even ugly, circus ugly. One of them has chest hair hanging out of his shirt pimp style, sporting a smile that makes him look like he's getting goosed. Another picture is simply the neck down of a hairy person in a thong. Nasty.
However, the rest look damn good. (My suggestion? #2 in the towel, or #9 in his undies).
What was I saying?
OK yea. Although there are some gorgeous gorgeous people on those sites (#2 is now the wallpaper on my computer), I will never understand what drives people to post their picture on the internet and let the huddled sweat pant clad masses judge how good looking they are from the safety of their computer desks which are most likely covered in cheetos and pizza boxes.
The only people who are allowed to judge how I look had best be better looking than me, or there will be hell to pay.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
I am having a moment of sheer panic. I think I may very well be about to fail my Criminal Justice test, miserably at that.
But on a lighter note, I did find this.
I would marry this guy.
But on a lighter note, I did find this.
I would marry this guy.
Monday, October 27, 2003
I'm in a mood today. Here we go!
1) If one more person looks at me with pity and disdain because I don't want to have children, I may vomit all over their already baby-formula stained shirt. "Children are our future" "You are denying yourself a wonderful gift" and "What if your husband wants to have kids?". Most people who have children shouldn't, rendering our future fucked up enough without my help. Secondly, if I wanted a wonderful gift I'd sink the $100,000 it takes to raise one of the little shits into a nice wardrobe of Gucci, Fendi, Prada, and Versace. Thirdly, if I DO ever get married and said husband wants a child, he can give birth to it himself. If you want kids, that's your own problem. But fuck you for trying to push masses of small screaming, drooling people with weird heads and no teeth on to me. (And before I get emails, you try to think of one child who doesn't have a weird shaped head).
2) To all the girly girls out there, if I hear you bitching about pumping your own fucking gas, I may have you killed. Fuck you. What the fuck makes you so special that you think you deserve to have someone doing it for you. You own the car. You drive the car. You cart your 203019 children to soccer practice in that car. Learn to pump your own fucking gas.
3) People who purposely misspell or misuse words should be shot. I don't care if U had 2 go 2 the store 4 sum cigs. I had 2 go 2 the store 4 mo ammo 2 shoot U. R U paying attention? R U? Not kwite as fun when sum1 else has 2 read this shit. I'm starting 2 piss myself off. This rule doesn't apply if U have a broken keyboard.
4)Fuck those TV ads that tell me if I'm buying drugs I'm supporting terrorism. Fuck you straight to hell. My drugs come from a short little man in Colombia named Juan who is trying to support Jesus, Victor, And Paco. And if we all stop, that poor little man and his poor little children will have nothing to exist on except for the small cocaine plantation in their back yard. Or if my drugs are grown in someone's basement in Oregon, or Montana. Fuck you. Go find Osama and leave me alone.
5) This person should be killed. You know what pisses ME off? Small adolescent boys who have yet to find the fucking spell check. Emplies? Is that even a word?
6) If I get another chain letter in my email, I may go insane. Do you really think that by me forwarding some obnoxious picture of a cat that twelve kids in Ziberbomway are finally going to get replacements for the prosthetic legs they lost in a wild boar accident that wasn't their fault because the large nipples on their foreheads obstruct their vision? Fuck you. I don't need any more luck in my love, work, or school life. What I do need is a beer and a cigarette. If a chain letter will supply me with that, I'm game. If not, the Ziberbomwayisans are on their fucking own.
1) If one more person looks at me with pity and disdain because I don't want to have children, I may vomit all over their already baby-formula stained shirt. "Children are our future" "You are denying yourself a wonderful gift" and "What if your husband wants to have kids?". Most people who have children shouldn't, rendering our future fucked up enough without my help. Secondly, if I wanted a wonderful gift I'd sink the $100,000 it takes to raise one of the little shits into a nice wardrobe of Gucci, Fendi, Prada, and Versace. Thirdly, if I DO ever get married and said husband wants a child, he can give birth to it himself. If you want kids, that's your own problem. But fuck you for trying to push masses of small screaming, drooling people with weird heads and no teeth on to me. (And before I get emails, you try to think of one child who doesn't have a weird shaped head).
2) To all the girly girls out there, if I hear you bitching about pumping your own fucking gas, I may have you killed. Fuck you. What the fuck makes you so special that you think you deserve to have someone doing it for you. You own the car. You drive the car. You cart your 203019 children to soccer practice in that car. Learn to pump your own fucking gas.
3) People who purposely misspell or misuse words should be shot. I don't care if U had 2 go 2 the store 4 sum cigs. I had 2 go 2 the store 4 mo ammo 2 shoot U. R U paying attention? R U? Not kwite as fun when sum1 else has 2 read this shit. I'm starting 2 piss myself off. This rule doesn't apply if U have a broken keyboard.
4)Fuck those TV ads that tell me if I'm buying drugs I'm supporting terrorism. Fuck you straight to hell. My drugs come from a short little man in Colombia named Juan who is trying to support Jesus, Victor, And Paco. And if we all stop, that poor little man and his poor little children will have nothing to exist on except for the small cocaine plantation in their back yard. Or if my drugs are grown in someone's basement in Oregon, or Montana. Fuck you. Go find Osama and leave me alone.
5) This person should be killed. You know what pisses ME off? Small adolescent boys who have yet to find the fucking spell check. Emplies? Is that even a word?
6) If I get another chain letter in my email, I may go insane. Do you really think that by me forwarding some obnoxious picture of a cat that twelve kids in Ziberbomway are finally going to get replacements for the prosthetic legs they lost in a wild boar accident that wasn't their fault because the large nipples on their foreheads obstruct their vision? Fuck you. I don't need any more luck in my love, work, or school life. What I do need is a beer and a cigarette. If a chain letter will supply me with that, I'm game. If not, the Ziberbomwayisans are on their fucking own.
Moment of panic. Complete moment of panic. I have to work on transferring all my credits and finding classes and shit for Spring term at Augie (Because I am COMING back come hell or water high). I am sitting here in the library about to put my head between my knees and hyperventilate. I can do this. Its fine. My 3.66 GPA will be up to a 3.8 and I'll go to Augie with my heterolifemate and take some summer classes and get back on track before I give myself a bloody heart attack.
And yes, that was all one sentance.
I talk really fucking fast when I get going.
And yes, that was all one sentance.
I talk really fucking fast when I get going.
Friday, October 24, 2003
So, I was surfing along and I came across this wonderous site. Man Bashing.
I've been more amused. The site is poorly developed, badly written, and spoken like a true 300 lb teenager with bad acne and no sex life. Congrats, and I have one word for you.
Norplant.
I've been more amused. The site is poorly developed, badly written, and spoken like a true 300 lb teenager with bad acne and no sex life. Congrats, and I have one word for you.
Norplant.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
God hates me. No, he really does. I survived a Slayer concert with out a single mishap (minus Sarah breaking a nail). We were thrown into pits with moshing, screaming, yelling, drunk men, and we didn't have a single problem. On Friday, Kim, Sarah and I went to see Blueman Group's Complex Rock Tour. It was an incredible show, or it would've been, if we weren't seated in front of the representatives from the I'm White Trash With No Teeth And I Live In A Trailer With Seventeen Children Whose Names I Forgot In A Drunken Haze committee.
Not only were they piss ass drunk before the show, they proceeded to make out, burp, yell, scream, and otherwise offend everyone in our general area. When asked politely to be quiet, the biggest man I have ever seen stood up and started screaming. I talked shit to him through the whole show. It was at the end where Sarah, little sweet Sarah, looked at him and told him to shut his fucking hole. I've never seen a man that big with that rocking of a mullet look so angry. He was seven feet taller than she is, and my money was still on her.
So now, we have a few of Clare's Guidelines For Behavior In A Little Place I Like To Call Public.
1. If you are 18 and wearing baggy pants and your boxers are showing, that's okay. If you are 40, fat, and your pants have fallen past your beer gut exposing your tighty whities (complete with holes) to the entire world, it is no longer ok. You need a belt.
2. If you are at a heavy metal concert, screaming, yelling, getting drunk, making out, whistling, etc., are encouraged. Shit, I do it on a regular basis. If you walk into a venue to see a group who's opening acts are Tracy Bonham and Venus Hum, and 98% of the people in attendance are behaving with some sort of class, it is no longer appropriate. Also, if you feel like you are the only person talking, yelling, standing, etc, so on so forth, you probably fucking are. Sit your fat ass down, shut your fat hole and let everyone else enjoy the show.
3. Don't get drunk in public. Some people pay $33.50 for tickets to Blue Man Group, and we get pissy when drunk rednecks ruin our time.
4. If you spill your beer down someone's shirt tackling really hard steps that no one else has a problem with, you're drunk, and you need to go home so we don't have to see your stupid ass.
5. If someone politely asks you to lower your voice, stop hitting the seats, to smoke your crack outside, they are not the only one's being bothered by your obnoxious behavior. They simply have a much larger disregard for their own well being than the rest of us, thus rendering them ballsy enough to say something to you.
6. If the person who politely tells you to shut your fucking mouth happens to be my heterolifemate, and you get up in her face, you have other things coming. I know how to gouge out eyeballs now, and I've been dying to try it. I've also been told I'm pretty mean with a Bic.
7. If you "plan ahead" for a sober ride home, and you aren't going to a heavy metal concert, bar, or party, you are being an asshole. It's a promise. You need some class, and perhaps an intervention.
8. No one cares what you think. Coming from a place not completely devoid of class, intelligence and sophistication, I was floored when I stepped foot in The Mark. Please, take this behavior and try it somewhere in Chicago. You will be shot, and the rest of us will laugh and continue watching the show from our comfortable, and now much quieter, seats.
9. If you have been drinking, do not clap to the beat. You cannot find the beat, you are drunker than hell. Same goes for singing. There is a reason some else is onstage, and you are drunk in the cheap seats. Sit quietly and try not to puke.
10. Don't use the fact that you bought a ticket for $33.50 as an excuse to act like a complete dickhead. We all paid $33.50 also, and although, as you've told us, you "paid $33 and I'm going to have fun", we paid our money as well. So shut your hole, we didn't pay $33.50 to hear you slur random bullshit out of your toothless mouth. I understand that for the members of the I'm White Trash With No Teeth And I Live In A Trailer With Seventeen Children Whose Names I Forgot In A Drunken Haze committee, $33.50 is a weeks pay and now Clyde whose Name You Forgot has no shoes, I still don't care. Get drunk at the bar, it's cheaper and I won't have to listen to you there.
Bah. I think we should enforce a new policy. Someone walks through the door, mullet blowing in the breeze while he holds up his faded black jeans, his hairy beer belly flapping in the wind under a ripped shirt with the logo of some obscure band with the word "fuck" in the name with his bleached blonde bitch complete with camel toe jeans, black roots, wearing a sports bra as a top and a Newport hanging out of her mouth on his arm?
Shoot them.
On sight. That way they can't become a problem and I can enjoy my fucking show.
Not only were they piss ass drunk before the show, they proceeded to make out, burp, yell, scream, and otherwise offend everyone in our general area. When asked politely to be quiet, the biggest man I have ever seen stood up and started screaming. I talked shit to him through the whole show. It was at the end where Sarah, little sweet Sarah, looked at him and told him to shut his fucking hole. I've never seen a man that big with that rocking of a mullet look so angry. He was seven feet taller than she is, and my money was still on her.
So now, we have a few of Clare's Guidelines For Behavior In A Little Place I Like To Call Public.
1. If you are 18 and wearing baggy pants and your boxers are showing, that's okay. If you are 40, fat, and your pants have fallen past your beer gut exposing your tighty whities (complete with holes) to the entire world, it is no longer ok. You need a belt.
2. If you are at a heavy metal concert, screaming, yelling, getting drunk, making out, whistling, etc., are encouraged. Shit, I do it on a regular basis. If you walk into a venue to see a group who's opening acts are Tracy Bonham and Venus Hum, and 98% of the people in attendance are behaving with some sort of class, it is no longer appropriate. Also, if you feel like you are the only person talking, yelling, standing, etc, so on so forth, you probably fucking are. Sit your fat ass down, shut your fat hole and let everyone else enjoy the show.
3. Don't get drunk in public. Some people pay $33.50 for tickets to Blue Man Group, and we get pissy when drunk rednecks ruin our time.
4. If you spill your beer down someone's shirt tackling really hard steps that no one else has a problem with, you're drunk, and you need to go home so we don't have to see your stupid ass.
5. If someone politely asks you to lower your voice, stop hitting the seats, to smoke your crack outside, they are not the only one's being bothered by your obnoxious behavior. They simply have a much larger disregard for their own well being than the rest of us, thus rendering them ballsy enough to say something to you.
6. If the person who politely tells you to shut your fucking mouth happens to be my heterolifemate, and you get up in her face, you have other things coming. I know how to gouge out eyeballs now, and I've been dying to try it. I've also been told I'm pretty mean with a Bic.
7. If you "plan ahead" for a sober ride home, and you aren't going to a heavy metal concert, bar, or party, you are being an asshole. It's a promise. You need some class, and perhaps an intervention.
8. No one cares what you think. Coming from a place not completely devoid of class, intelligence and sophistication, I was floored when I stepped foot in The Mark. Please, take this behavior and try it somewhere in Chicago. You will be shot, and the rest of us will laugh and continue watching the show from our comfortable, and now much quieter, seats.
9. If you have been drinking, do not clap to the beat. You cannot find the beat, you are drunker than hell. Same goes for singing. There is a reason some else is onstage, and you are drunk in the cheap seats. Sit quietly and try not to puke.
10. Don't use the fact that you bought a ticket for $33.50 as an excuse to act like a complete dickhead. We all paid $33.50 also, and although, as you've told us, you "paid $33 and I'm going to have fun", we paid our money as well. So shut your hole, we didn't pay $33.50 to hear you slur random bullshit out of your toothless mouth. I understand that for the members of the I'm White Trash With No Teeth And I Live In A Trailer With Seventeen Children Whose Names I Forgot In A Drunken Haze committee, $33.50 is a weeks pay and now Clyde whose Name You Forgot has no shoes, I still don't care. Get drunk at the bar, it's cheaper and I won't have to listen to you there.
Bah. I think we should enforce a new policy. Someone walks through the door, mullet blowing in the breeze while he holds up his faded black jeans, his hairy beer belly flapping in the wind under a ripped shirt with the logo of some obscure band with the word "fuck" in the name with his bleached blonde bitch complete with camel toe jeans, black roots, wearing a sports bra as a top and a Newport hanging out of her mouth on his arm?
Shoot them.
On sight. That way they can't become a problem and I can enjoy my fucking show.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
I've got a couple of things on my mind, as usual. So here we go folks!
1. It is fucking insane that because my sister seems to think she has found "the one" that I must be subjected to endless poking and prodding by numerous people who ask me questions such as "Why don't you have a boyfriend" "Why can't you keep a boyfriend" "Is _________ the one?" "Don't you ever want kids?". Like its never occured to these idiots that I don't have a boyfriend because I'm single, I don't keep them because I'm a shithead, _____ isn't the one because I'm holding out for Chris and fuck no I don't want kids, I know where they come from. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I failed classes on being dependent on some other asshole, I play a shitty damsel in distress and I don't like limits. And all this fucking time everyone's convinced that I like cooking for one, coming home to an empty apartment and sleeping in an empty bed. It's fucking wonderful.
2. I may shoot the next person who walks near me with a fucking cellphone attached to their ear. You are not that important. Trust me. If you are going to email me and tell me that you ARE that important, I am going to laugh at you. You are not important. If you think you are, you have more problems than just trying to get good reception. The reception would be better if you removed your head from your own pompous self-rightgeous ass and realized that I don't give a shit about your conversation, thus, I don't want to hear one end of it.
3. I don't like the idea that I'm supposed to be thin to be happy. I'm not entirely sure how happy I could be while trying to survive on carrot sticks and water. I am not thin. I do yoga or pilates 3 times a week and cardio, if my lungs allow. I can also kick the living shit out of just about any "thin" person you send my way. Why is that? Because they are too goddamn weak from barely surviving off of low carb crap and water to be strong enough to so much as defend themselves. I may not be a size 2, but I have boobs, a butt, I can drink a grown man under the table, and the only shopping I do at gap Kids is for Christmas gifts.
4. My blog looks fantastic. Instead of marriage, I am running off with Chris. Right after I guilt trip Shawn for the fact that Chris has done more nice things for me in the past 6 months than he has, and Chris lives three hours away and has a job. Shawn, you'd better have a good excuse, my dear. Not only do I want to sleep with Chris, keep him forever and drive his car, he is now one of the coolest people I know.
5.I miss Leo. I said I wouldn't get attached to these kids at work. Then again, I've also said that I'll stop smoking and drinking, but that's not fucking likely either, now is it. I miss you, kid. You were one of my favorites. Behave, be good, and remember someone is thinkin about you. Keep it up my little Lion, you'll go far. I'll miss you.
1. It is fucking insane that because my sister seems to think she has found "the one" that I must be subjected to endless poking and prodding by numerous people who ask me questions such as "Why don't you have a boyfriend" "Why can't you keep a boyfriend" "Is _________ the one?" "Don't you ever want kids?". Like its never occured to these idiots that I don't have a boyfriend because I'm single, I don't keep them because I'm a shithead, _____ isn't the one because I'm holding out for Chris and fuck no I don't want kids, I know where they come from. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I failed classes on being dependent on some other asshole, I play a shitty damsel in distress and I don't like limits. And all this fucking time everyone's convinced that I like cooking for one, coming home to an empty apartment and sleeping in an empty bed. It's fucking wonderful.
2. I may shoot the next person who walks near me with a fucking cellphone attached to their ear. You are not that important. Trust me. If you are going to email me and tell me that you ARE that important, I am going to laugh at you. You are not important. If you think you are, you have more problems than just trying to get good reception. The reception would be better if you removed your head from your own pompous self-rightgeous ass and realized that I don't give a shit about your conversation, thus, I don't want to hear one end of it.
3. I don't like the idea that I'm supposed to be thin to be happy. I'm not entirely sure how happy I could be while trying to survive on carrot sticks and water. I am not thin. I do yoga or pilates 3 times a week and cardio, if my lungs allow. I can also kick the living shit out of just about any "thin" person you send my way. Why is that? Because they are too goddamn weak from barely surviving off of low carb crap and water to be strong enough to so much as defend themselves. I may not be a size 2, but I have boobs, a butt, I can drink a grown man under the table, and the only shopping I do at gap Kids is for Christmas gifts.
4. My blog looks fantastic. Instead of marriage, I am running off with Chris. Right after I guilt trip Shawn for the fact that Chris has done more nice things for me in the past 6 months than he has, and Chris lives three hours away and has a job. Shawn, you'd better have a good excuse, my dear. Not only do I want to sleep with Chris, keep him forever and drive his car, he is now one of the coolest people I know.
5.I miss Leo. I said I wouldn't get attached to these kids at work. Then again, I've also said that I'll stop smoking and drinking, but that's not fucking likely either, now is it. I miss you, kid. You were one of my favorites. Behave, be good, and remember someone is thinkin about you. Keep it up my little Lion, you'll go far. I'll miss you.
Monday, October 20, 2003
Ok. I'd like to announce, publicly, right here on my blog, that Chris is the fucking shit. I'd have his fucking babies right now. I get home after a long day of working with children and idiots, to find an email that tells me he has a suprise for me. Since he wasn't naked in my bed (or under it, or in the closet...I looked), I finally got around to TALKING to the guy.
Apparently, orange isn't my color. Purple, carebears, and cool shit is more me.
Thank Chris for the new look, people.
It looks fucking great.
And just to say thanks, I'll put out. And so will every other female I know.
Apparently, orange isn't my color. Purple, carebears, and cool shit is more me.
Thank Chris for the new look, people.
It looks fucking great.
And just to say thanks, I'll put out. And so will every other female I know.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
So. Clare's not doing so hot as of late. It's been one crappy thing after another. I could deal with it. I could have. But I can't.
I miss Shawn.
It's not a little miss. It's an I think about him every day kind of miss. A We were supposed to be friends until we were in the home kind of miss. The kind of miss where you hope they atleast think of you once in awhile, because you're thinking of them. Its the my life is going on and I'm not ready for it to do that without my best friend kind of miss.
And you know what?
I don't have a clue what to do. The one person in my life that I hated so much I could kill sometimes, that drove me crazy, that made me want to tear my hair out in clumps and scream, and the one person I needed the most isn't around me anymore. And he was the one who was supposed to stay through everything.
I need a shaggy blonde haired Shawn hug.
I need my best friend.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
I miss Shawn.
It's not a little miss. It's an I think about him every day kind of miss. A We were supposed to be friends until we were in the home kind of miss. The kind of miss where you hope they atleast think of you once in awhile, because you're thinking of them. Its the my life is going on and I'm not ready for it to do that without my best friend kind of miss.
And you know what?
I don't have a clue what to do. The one person in my life that I hated so much I could kill sometimes, that drove me crazy, that made me want to tear my hair out in clumps and scream, and the one person I needed the most isn't around me anymore. And he was the one who was supposed to stay through everything.
I need a shaggy blonde haired Shawn hug.
I need my best friend.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
BAH! If ever there was proof that I'm some higher powers practical joke, this is it.
As soon as I get my life on track...new job...money...Blueman group tickets...incriminating pictures of Chris...I go and FUCK it up. How did I do this, you ask? Two words.
Flu Shot.
I can't remember the last time I felt this shitty. I'm feverish, tired, achy, my head is pounding and I want my mommy. I also have to be at work at SEVEN O CLOCK IN THE MOTHERFUCKING MORNING.
So here's what I need.
Chris needs to get his cute little ass into his cute little car and drive here and make me some soup. Then he needs to tuck me in to bed, take care of me all night long. Then in the morning, he needs to help me get rid of the damn flu. (What, you thought otherwise? Hes hot!)
Maybe buy me some flowers.
Shit.
He can stop by and watch the Emporer's New Groove with me, while discussing with me the whole time why so and so is hotter than me. I don't care. But being sick and alone really bites my ass.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
As soon as I get my life on track...new job...money...Blueman group tickets...incriminating pictures of Chris...I go and FUCK it up. How did I do this, you ask? Two words.
Flu Shot.
I can't remember the last time I felt this shitty. I'm feverish, tired, achy, my head is pounding and I want my mommy. I also have to be at work at SEVEN O CLOCK IN THE MOTHERFUCKING MORNING.
So here's what I need.
Chris needs to get his cute little ass into his cute little car and drive here and make me some soup. Then he needs to tuck me in to bed, take care of me all night long. Then in the morning, he needs to help me get rid of the damn flu. (What, you thought otherwise? Hes hot!)
Maybe buy me some flowers.
Shit.
He can stop by and watch the Emporer's New Groove with me, while discussing with me the whole time why so and so is hotter than me. I don't care. But being sick and alone really bites my ass.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
I am taking a small step for me, and a gigantic leap for chicks everywhere. I am highlighting my own hair. As I type this, I wait, to see whether or not my rich copper highlights will accent the blonde I already have, or if there will be emergancy calls to my best friend's ex girlfriend who owns a salon.
So we wait. I ran into some unexpected cash today, and thought, I could pay off my credit card or I could pick up some Herbal essences highlighting shit. Well, we all know what I did. My only complaint so far? The applicator doesnt take in to account that some of us have a LOT of fucking hair. But, we will see.
If I don't blog again, it's because I've died of shock.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
So we wait. I ran into some unexpected cash today, and thought, I could pay off my credit card or I could pick up some Herbal essences highlighting shit. Well, we all know what I did. My only complaint so far? The applicator doesnt take in to account that some of us have a LOT of fucking hair. But, we will see.
If I don't blog again, it's because I've died of shock.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
I had the most outrageous night ever at the Jagermeister Music Tour. Hours upon hours of heavy motherfucking metal. I know Adam, Sarah and I all have that day after I got the shit kicked out of me and ruptured an eardrum, glow.
But, that's not exactly how it went. The night went something like this.
We arrived three hours late after threatening poor Adam within an inch of his life and immediately met the guys from SoulShock (I think that's their name right now, boy changes the band name every 5 minutes). So after meeting all those SUPER cool guys (Baron, Mike and the rest!) I wandered my happy ass over to see the guys from Anal Blast and wound up meeting all the guys from Sworn Enemy.
But that is not nearly the coolest part.
I was hanging over the fence, trying to get a better view of Hatebreed, when I found a big burly security guard. Being me, and that means, I'd flirt with anything for any reason, I stroked his goatee. And he gestured for me to get over there now. Having never been kicked out of a fucking metal concert before, I damn near peed my pants. I grabbed Sarah's arm, and met him at the gate...which he opened up, and let me (and Sarah, after some fanagling) backstage.
My heterolifemate and I got BACKSTAGE AT THE SLAYER CONCERT. I'm going to pause a second so you can think about how entirely fucking cool that is. Ready go!
I'll leave out the grisly details of the concert promoter/security guard who thought that gave him a right to get in my pants.
It was unreal. It's really hazy. I know I talked to a few guys from Hatebreed before their set, but I definitely chit chatted with the guys in Dope and picked up some nifty hair advice in case I ever become a rock star. (He was the one with the spiky fun hair).
Although they were all great, the guys from Hemlock were my favorites. Not only did the lead singer sign my shirt and give me a huge hug, we talked for a good ten minutes, and he even signed some shot glasses for me, my friends, and poor Honeyman, who missed out on all the fun.
Massive kudos go to Adam for being cool as hell and not passing out when I introduced the guys from "Anal Blast", and for Sarah for saving me from the evil promoter backstage.
You guys fucking rule!
I left with 3 shotglasses, 2 free CDs, a bumpersticker, a T-shirt, and the ability to say that I got backstage at the Jagermesiter Music Tour.
Put that in your little pipe and bite down.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
But, that's not exactly how it went. The night went something like this.
We arrived three hours late after threatening poor Adam within an inch of his life and immediately met the guys from SoulShock (I think that's their name right now, boy changes the band name every 5 minutes). So after meeting all those SUPER cool guys (Baron, Mike and the rest!) I wandered my happy ass over to see the guys from Anal Blast and wound up meeting all the guys from Sworn Enemy.
But that is not nearly the coolest part.
I was hanging over the fence, trying to get a better view of Hatebreed, when I found a big burly security guard. Being me, and that means, I'd flirt with anything for any reason, I stroked his goatee. And he gestured for me to get over there now. Having never been kicked out of a fucking metal concert before, I damn near peed my pants. I grabbed Sarah's arm, and met him at the gate...which he opened up, and let me (and Sarah, after some fanagling) backstage.
My heterolifemate and I got BACKSTAGE AT THE SLAYER CONCERT. I'm going to pause a second so you can think about how entirely fucking cool that is. Ready go!
I'll leave out the grisly details of the concert promoter/security guard who thought that gave him a right to get in my pants.
It was unreal. It's really hazy. I know I talked to a few guys from Hatebreed before their set, but I definitely chit chatted with the guys in Dope and picked up some nifty hair advice in case I ever become a rock star. (He was the one with the spiky fun hair).
Although they were all great, the guys from Hemlock were my favorites. Not only did the lead singer sign my shirt and give me a huge hug, we talked for a good ten minutes, and he even signed some shot glasses for me, my friends, and poor Honeyman, who missed out on all the fun.
Massive kudos go to Adam for being cool as hell and not passing out when I introduced the guys from "Anal Blast", and for Sarah for saving me from the evil promoter backstage.
You guys fucking rule!
I left with 3 shotglasses, 2 free CDs, a bumpersticker, a T-shirt, and the ability to say that I got backstage at the Jagermesiter Music Tour.
Put that in your little pipe and bite down.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
If you want a spot in my blog, you have to earn it. Pissing me off via instant message is not a way to get into my heart or into my little corner of the web. Invade somene elses blog. Mine is protected by barbed wires, dogs, and rabid eskimos. On that note, motherfucker, listen here.
1. I was accused of being "militant".
Lets define this, shall we? "Having a combative character; aggressive, especially in the service of a cause". I am argumentitive. I have my own fucking opinions. I am mean as all get out. But I am not militant. I don't have a cause, and adopting one requires much more discipline than I have. Fuck you.
2. Shawn is my best friend. He is not my secret love, boyfriend, or lover. I do not secretly want him. That's why I have Chris.
3. If you date me, I will not COMPARE you to Shawn. I have better things to do. He is my best friend. Leave it alone, or find my boot up your ass. Don't fuck with me about him, you'll find out how uncute and unfunny I can really fucking be.
4. Compliments are nice. I can accept a compliment.
5. "Nice Rack" is not an appropriate compliment.
6. I have self confidence. I have people who love me unconditionally. Don't think for one fucking second that I'm going to cry into my pillow because I don't have you. The only crying I plan on doing is on Chris's bare chest after wild sex, due to the discovery we ran out of vodka.
And finally. I've had a bad fucking couple of days. NOW is NOT the time to tell me how my relationship with my best friend (who is my WORLD) is flawed, and that I'm an arrogent bitch.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
1. I was accused of being "militant".
Lets define this, shall we? "Having a combative character; aggressive, especially in the service of a cause". I am argumentitive. I have my own fucking opinions. I am mean as all get out. But I am not militant. I don't have a cause, and adopting one requires much more discipline than I have. Fuck you.
2. Shawn is my best friend. He is not my secret love, boyfriend, or lover. I do not secretly want him. That's why I have Chris.
3. If you date me, I will not COMPARE you to Shawn. I have better things to do. He is my best friend. Leave it alone, or find my boot up your ass. Don't fuck with me about him, you'll find out how uncute and unfunny I can really fucking be.
4. Compliments are nice. I can accept a compliment.
5. "Nice Rack" is not an appropriate compliment.
6. I have self confidence. I have people who love me unconditionally. Don't think for one fucking second that I'm going to cry into my pillow because I don't have you. The only crying I plan on doing is on Chris's bare chest after wild sex, due to the discovery we ran out of vodka.
And finally. I've had a bad fucking couple of days. NOW is NOT the time to tell me how my relationship with my best friend (who is my WORLD) is flawed, and that I'm an arrogent bitch.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
So. I think I may be in love, says your favorite blogger chick. Why? You ask? Because, I reply happily, I am fucking sick of all these goddamn pussy looking pumpkins I see everyfuckingwhere. Its halloween, it's supposed to be scary. This is the time of year where I want to vandalize everything that is "cutesy'. And I think That this guy might agree with me. I may just have to have his children.
And tell you what.
They would be children who wouldn't dress up like princesses for halloween, either.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
And tell you what.
They would be children who wouldn't dress up like princesses for halloween, either.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Monday, October 06, 2003
It has been brough to my attention from my very observant heterolifemate that our dear friend Nanette's parents may not have been expecting a dog.
Her mother may have planned on giving birth to a county in Kentucky, or perhaps a horse.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Her mother may have planned on giving birth to a county in Kentucky, or perhaps a horse.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Wow. I just had a moment of complete panic. Looks like the soonest Ill be back at Augustana is March 8th. But thats ok. I suppose I won't be the first 8 year senior.
Someone tell me it's ok.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Someone tell me it's ok.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
Oh yea. See Clare get pissy now. I cant access "Psychology Today" From this shitty library because of the nature of its content. However, I can walk my fat ass up across the room and pick up a hard copy of it.
YAY for being intellegent and in college.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
YAY for being intellegent and in college.
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
So, thought Clare while sitting in the libraby at her so called "College", what can I do to kill time while I freeze my ass off in this godforsaken place?
The biggest waste of time yet!
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
http://www.urban75.com/Mag/useless.html
The biggest waste of time yet!
The TweekerChick doesn't give a fuck what you have to say. Nor does she encourage feedback of any kind. You can email me at TweekerChickQC@Yahoo.com. Anything you send my way becomes the sole property of the TweekerChick, giving me permission to reuse it in any medium I deem necessary. Think before you click.
http://www.urban75.com/Mag/useless.html
Well, it's gotten real. As much as I discourage feedback (TweekerchickQC@yahoo.com, if your brave), one of you idiots has gotten through the barrier.
And it's on.
So here we go, for the first post of many in the new category I'd like to name "Don't fuck with me, bitch".
I have not altered the content of this asshole's email in any way shape or form. It's being posted here for the amusement of my readers, spelling errors and all. Enjoy.
Has anyone ever told you that your a bitch?
No. Has anyone ever told your mom she should've used a condom?
Maybe you should look closer at some of the websites you chose to pick apart. The glitterspa websit has a good message.
Only if its message is that it's ok to be a sniveling pain in the ass incapable of functioning in society. Read their page about dealing with an abusive crush and then tell me they have the right idea. When someone throws one of them down the steps, breaks their ribs, and knocks out more than a few of their teeth, they can talk to me about abusive relationships.
You have no idea what your talkin about.
I have a very good idea what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is that drivel perpetuates the idea that girls are some fluffy adorable creatures who care only about lipgloss and boys, and it gives off the idea that if someone is mean to them, it's abuse. It's bullshit. No wonder we are a nation full of perpetual victims.
Your probably still in hihschool.
No. Actually, I'm 12. I just snuck on the internet while my babysitter was smoking pot with her boyfriend.
Caus no educated person would right a page like this.
This educated person would.
You are an oviously unhappy person.
I'm perfectly happy. At least, I was until you started talking.
I hope you get help someday.
Actually, so do I. My Xanax is running out, and this could be a problem.
Godbless
I'm sure God really has the spare time to bless my stupid ass just because you disagree with me. Now all the poor little children in Indoberiamala are going to starve, simply because God was too busy with me. How does it feel to have that on your conscience?
Nanette
Wow. Nanette? What were your parents expecting? A dog?
This, loyal readers, is why the world is going to shit, and why, really, Hooked on Phonics wasn't a very good idea.
And it's on.
So here we go, for the first post of many in the new category I'd like to name "Don't fuck with me, bitch".
I have not altered the content of this asshole's email in any way shape or form. It's being posted here for the amusement of my readers, spelling errors and all. Enjoy.
Has anyone ever told you that your a bitch?
No. Has anyone ever told your mom she should've used a condom?
Maybe you should look closer at some of the websites you chose to pick apart. The glitterspa websit has a good message.
Only if its message is that it's ok to be a sniveling pain in the ass incapable of functioning in society. Read their page about dealing with an abusive crush and then tell me they have the right idea. When someone throws one of them down the steps, breaks their ribs, and knocks out more than a few of their teeth, they can talk to me about abusive relationships.
You have no idea what your talkin about.
I have a very good idea what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is that drivel perpetuates the idea that girls are some fluffy adorable creatures who care only about lipgloss and boys, and it gives off the idea that if someone is mean to them, it's abuse. It's bullshit. No wonder we are a nation full of perpetual victims.
Your probably still in hihschool.
No. Actually, I'm 12. I just snuck on the internet while my babysitter was smoking pot with her boyfriend.
Caus no educated person would right a page like this.
This educated person would.
You are an oviously unhappy person.
I'm perfectly happy. At least, I was until you started talking.
I hope you get help someday.
Actually, so do I. My Xanax is running out, and this could be a problem.
Godbless
I'm sure God really has the spare time to bless my stupid ass just because you disagree with me. Now all the poor little children in Indoberiamala are going to starve, simply because God was too busy with me. How does it feel to have that on your conscience?
Nanette
Wow. Nanette? What were your parents expecting? A dog?
This, loyal readers, is why the world is going to shit, and why, really, Hooked on Phonics wasn't a very good idea.
I'm an adrenaline junky, as is a good friend of mine. I would do things that borderline being labeled as "Stupid as shit", just to get a little blood pumping.
I've bungee jumped. I've plopped myself into the middle of moshpits with scary angry tattooed men in them. I've got my tongue pierced and two tattoos.
Anything that gets my adrenaline going, I'm all for.
There are millions of people just like me in the world.
So for all my blogging fans who enjoy their extreme sports, for the fast and the furious, for my friends who hurl themselves out of perfectly good planes, set themselves on fire and let people film it, and for my friends who think it's fun to climb big ass steep rocks without a harness or a net, I have something for you.
I have a new sport for you.
I bet you won't do it. I dare you.
I triple dog dare you
I've bungee jumped. I've plopped myself into the middle of moshpits with scary angry tattooed men in them. I've got my tongue pierced and two tattoos.
Anything that gets my adrenaline going, I'm all for.
There are millions of people just like me in the world.
So for all my blogging fans who enjoy their extreme sports, for the fast and the furious, for my friends who hurl themselves out of perfectly good planes, set themselves on fire and let people film it, and for my friends who think it's fun to climb big ass steep rocks without a harness or a net, I have something for you.
I have a new sport for you.
I bet you won't do it. I dare you.
I triple dog dare you
Sunday, October 05, 2003
I really ought to stop reading the news, and then bogging down my blog with my "radical opinions and vast amount of college liberal bullshit" (I told you, don't email me unless you want me to use it). I was surfing around on CNN, and I came across the articles on Arnold Schwarzenegger pro-Hitler quote.
And I fail to see the issue here.
"I admire him for being such a good public speaker and for his way of getting to the people and so on. But I didn't admire him for what he did with it," the quote being used against Arnold stated. If anything, we should slap him in the head for pointing out the obvious. As it normally happens, I'm going to take the unpopular side. Yes, Hitler had a complex. Yes, Hitler killed excessive amounts of innocent people. He was in fact a horrible person with one testicle. I am not disputing these facts. But you cannot look at this from a historical perspective and tell me that Hitler was a bad leader. I'd probably slap you upside the head.
Hitler had an incredible memory for detail and assured that the points in his speeches were correct and consistent with previous briefings. He supplemented his information with his field commanders, and even the front lines at times. His operational decisions early in the war were often times better than those of his generals, although he did go into a war with no idea what he was doing or any way to win. But when it came to public speaking, the man was leaps and bounds ahead of his time. This is a man who would arrive to the podium, remain quiet for a minute, and begin his speeches quietly forcing everyone to listen. By the end of them, he was animated, emotional, using gestures he would practice in front of the mirror for hours to accentuate his points (No matter how wrong they really were).
What really bothers me about this entire Arnold-Hitler situation, however, is the way the other party is handling it. Some choice phrases include:
"I do not feel comfortable sitting in judgment on newspaper articles or past allegations, but I am prepared to say that anyone who says they admire Hitler shocks the public conscience, because there's nothing about Hitler that warrants admiration, nothing at all."
If I lived in California, I would not feel comfortable having someone in a leadership position who doesn't have the intelligence to differentiate between Hitler being a good leader and a good person. Although I don't give a rats ass, I think its bullshit that the media has nothing better to do than claim Arnold Schwarzenegger is a Hitler loving Nazi when he has raised millions of dollars for the Simon Wiesenthal Center and probably done more for Holocaust awareness than any other star.
YAY for politics being completely insane.
I'm just going to move to Mexico and drink tequila all day, and not worry about this sort of childish crap anymore.
And I fail to see the issue here.
"I admire him for being such a good public speaker and for his way of getting to the people and so on. But I didn't admire him for what he did with it," the quote being used against Arnold stated. If anything, we should slap him in the head for pointing out the obvious. As it normally happens, I'm going to take the unpopular side. Yes, Hitler had a complex. Yes, Hitler killed excessive amounts of innocent people. He was in fact a horrible person with one testicle. I am not disputing these facts. But you cannot look at this from a historical perspective and tell me that Hitler was a bad leader. I'd probably slap you upside the head.
Hitler had an incredible memory for detail and assured that the points in his speeches were correct and consistent with previous briefings. He supplemented his information with his field commanders, and even the front lines at times. His operational decisions early in the war were often times better than those of his generals, although he did go into a war with no idea what he was doing or any way to win. But when it came to public speaking, the man was leaps and bounds ahead of his time. This is a man who would arrive to the podium, remain quiet for a minute, and begin his speeches quietly forcing everyone to listen. By the end of them, he was animated, emotional, using gestures he would practice in front of the mirror for hours to accentuate his points (No matter how wrong they really were).
What really bothers me about this entire Arnold-Hitler situation, however, is the way the other party is handling it. Some choice phrases include:
"I do not feel comfortable sitting in judgment on newspaper articles or past allegations, but I am prepared to say that anyone who says they admire Hitler shocks the public conscience, because there's nothing about Hitler that warrants admiration, nothing at all."
If I lived in California, I would not feel comfortable having someone in a leadership position who doesn't have the intelligence to differentiate between Hitler being a good leader and a good person. Although I don't give a rats ass, I think its bullshit that the media has nothing better to do than claim Arnold Schwarzenegger is a Hitler loving Nazi when he has raised millions of dollars for the Simon Wiesenthal Center and probably done more for Holocaust awareness than any other star.
YAY for politics being completely insane.
I'm just going to move to Mexico and drink tequila all day, and not worry about this sort of childish crap anymore.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
I was surfing the net this morning, when I came across some very disturbing news. Apparently, Roy from Siegfried & Roy is In critical condition after being mauled by a tiger.
It was the tiger's first night, and when brought out onstage in front of hundreds of people, it turned and bit Roy on the arm, and proceeded to grab him by the neck.
In light of this news, I have one thing to say.
No shit.
You take a tiger out of its natural habitat, train it for seven years or so, and then force it out onto a stage with hundreds of people making unusual sounds and movements. What the fuck do you think is going to happen? The tiger is scared to death, and these idiots think its a good idea to put them on a short leash and hang on for dear life. Apparently, they have never been hurt by an animal before. Well, it's about damn time. Hopefully the massive blood loss and nice hospital people can convince the two idiots that playing with very large animals and shoving them into unfamiliar situations is just not a good idea. After that, maybe they can go over more snippets of common sense, like looking both ways before crossing the street. How it hasn't happened until now is amazing to me.
Now, before I get all sorts of shitty emails about how Siegfried and Roy are gods gift to all felines, give me a second here. I understand that they take excellent care of the tigers. The tiger will most likely go back to living a normal life in the compound where they keep all 19579127179 tigers they have. I understand that they have saved almost single handedly, an entire species of animal.
But, they are still animals. And when animals are afraid, they will attack. So can we please not pretend to be so surprised that this happened, and be surprised its only the first time it happened?
This would be an excellent time to remind you all, as much as I don't encourage feedback, if you do feel the need to email me, any submissions become the property of the Tweeker Chick, and I may publish or reuse them in any other medium. In other words, you'd better think twice before hitting send.
It was the tiger's first night, and when brought out onstage in front of hundreds of people, it turned and bit Roy on the arm, and proceeded to grab him by the neck.
In light of this news, I have one thing to say.
No shit.
You take a tiger out of its natural habitat, train it for seven years or so, and then force it out onto a stage with hundreds of people making unusual sounds and movements. What the fuck do you think is going to happen? The tiger is scared to death, and these idiots think its a good idea to put them on a short leash and hang on for dear life. Apparently, they have never been hurt by an animal before. Well, it's about damn time. Hopefully the massive blood loss and nice hospital people can convince the two idiots that playing with very large animals and shoving them into unfamiliar situations is just not a good idea. After that, maybe they can go over more snippets of common sense, like looking both ways before crossing the street. How it hasn't happened until now is amazing to me.
Now, before I get all sorts of shitty emails about how Siegfried and Roy are gods gift to all felines, give me a second here. I understand that they take excellent care of the tigers. The tiger will most likely go back to living a normal life in the compound where they keep all 19579127179 tigers they have. I understand that they have saved almost single handedly, an entire species of animal.
But, they are still animals. And when animals are afraid, they will attack. So can we please not pretend to be so surprised that this happened, and be surprised its only the first time it happened?
This would be an excellent time to remind you all, as much as I don't encourage feedback, if you do feel the need to email me, any submissions become the property of the Tweeker Chick, and I may publish or reuse them in any other medium. In other words, you'd better think twice before hitting send.
Friday, October 03, 2003
You guys have got to see this one.
The Dangers of Drinking!
Some major flaws? She smokes the cigarette backwards, shes 56 and never ages, and oh yea, who the FUCK mixes BEER with COKE? Bahh. For my chicks out there, I'd reccomend going to Heartless Bitches International
I vote we let them have a crack at the Glittery Sluts.
The Dangers of Drinking!
Some major flaws? She smokes the cigarette backwards, shes 56 and never ages, and oh yea, who the FUCK mixes BEER with COKE? Bahh. For my chicks out there, I'd reccomend going to Heartless Bitches International
I vote we let them have a crack at the Glittery Sluts.
Ok. I thought I was done. I, as it often happens, was mistaken. I was surfing along, procrastinating like a mother fucker, and had the misfortune of coming to a site that contained, and I shit you not, 26 things that a perfect guy would do. Although it came off of a place called Glitter Spa that has a little mouse thingy that traces the words "Girls rock at glitterspa.com!"(which should tell us ALL something), I just don't have it in me to leave this one alone. So here we go. And way to win the award for Stupidest Website Found Today! (if you really want to kill some braincells, try this one The Muffin Quiz )
26 Things That A Perfect Guy Would Do
Donated by Anonymous with Commentary by your Favorite Tweeker Chick
1. Know how to make you smile when you are down.
Here's a thought. Tell him. He's not a motherfucking mind reader.
2. Try to secretly smell your hair, but you always notice.
Not only is this stupid, but some of us have alot of fucking hair. If someone tried to sneak a whiff of mine, they'd
most likely suffocate. It's down to my motherfuckin waist. And who the hell wants to smell styling products anyway?
3. Stick up for you, but still respect your independence.
It's bitches like you that get good guys beat up. Shut your fucking yap, grow some fucking balls, and take care of your own shit. Hes your boyfriend, not your keeper. He can't respect your independence if you don't respect it yourself.
4.Give you the remote control during the game.
He can give you the remote during the game. But if you turn the channel, I hope he snatches it out of your grubby little palm and beats you in the temple with it, you stupid bitch.
5. Come up behind you and put his arms around you.
Awww. Isn't that cute. It's also a nice way to get a swift elbow to the gut if timed incorrectly. And anyway, no one wants to see two idiots fawning all over each other.
6. Play with your hair.
Refer to #2. If he's not already passed out, name me ONE fucking female who wouldn't bitch like a mother fucker when their boyfriend "messed up my hair!". Puke. Nice. Make it so the poor guy can't win.
7. His hands always find yours.
Mostly because your moving his off of whatever body parts you decided were off limits, in some stupid attempt to make him "respect" you.
8. Be cute when he really wants something.
I don't know one fucking person who is cute when they really want something. And if this is reffering to sex, don't be suprised if your "Perfect guy" winds up in bed with me or my heterolifemate. You simply don't deserve him, if you are going to treat him like your little toy. I hope hes just as cute when he tells you that he fucked your best friend, because you wouldn't put out, because he wasn't cute enough.
9. Offer you pleanty of massages.
What is this guy? A goddamn massage therapist? If you want your back rub, ask. Some people are great at it (Adam, I've heard rumors!). Be specific with what you want. I know many a guy that if I asked him for a massage, he'd massage my boobs. With his mouth. And you little princesses out there better not forget that guys could use a good back rub once in awhile, too. Don't expect him to fall over doing something for your stupid ass when you're not willing to get him back.
10. Dance with you, even if he feels like a dork.
If your the perfect girlfriend, you should remove your head from your ass and realize that maybe putting your boyfriend into a position where he is uncomfortable is bullshit.
11. Never run out of love.
Three words. What the fuck. No guy I know would make it 10 minutes with a chick like this. Take what you can get, beggars can't be choosers. And for whoever wrote this? I hope you have alot of beer handy, cause that's the only way this man's "Love" isn't running out.
12. Be funny, but know how to be serious.
Ok. Thats fine, Mr Fabulous can do this, as soon as he masters the art of being smart but knowing how to be stupid enough to date you.
13.Realize he's being funny when he needs to be serious.
Give the guy a break. You breaking a nail, getting a splinter or having a zit is not serious. Extra points for lover boy if he makes fun of you for it.
14.Be patient when you take forever to get ready.
Jesus. Bullshit. This cunt would throw a fit about her boyfriend not respecting her time. But making him wait is really respecting his? Thats fine. Any guy I date would be patient while I was taking forever to get ready. At the bar, down the street. Without me.
15.React so cutely when you hit him and it actually hurts.
FUCK that. Punch the bitch back. Hopefully in her pretty little face. See how she likes it. If you need to hit your boyfriend, you have issues.
16.Smile alot.
Smiling alot is easy when you're stupid. Give the guy a break. They have emotions too. And a frown, grimace, sneer, and smirk can be just as sexy as a smile. Get over yourself, you little wench. ::Smiles adorably::
17. Plan a romantic date full of cheesy things he wouldn't normally like to do, just because he knows it means a lot to you.
I'm all for making sacrifices in relationships. But I'll be goddamned if I'll make my boyfriend feel like an ass because something means alot to me. So you want a picnic in the park? Fine. Be happy if you get a blanket on the living room floor with beer and pizza. The guy's trying.
18.Appricate you.
Yes. If I was your boyfriend I'd appricate you too, for what you are. A stupid deluded bitch with some serious issues.
19. Help others out.
If anyone I dated ever tried to help a little old lady across the street, she'd most likely scream, hit him with her purse, and have him arrested. I mean, I wouldn't date someone that kicked a puppy, but these chicks are looking for a boyscout. Sick. Someone should really update the National Sex Offender registry.
20. Drive 5 hours just to see you for 1.
Get off your lazy bitch ass and see him once in awhile. What, is he the only one in the relationship with the ability to drive? Do you expect him to ask your father for permission to date you, as well? (and no, it's NOT romantic, it's stupid).
21.Always gives you a peck on the cheek when you depart from each others company, even when his friends are watching.
Never ask him to do this. No respectable guy wants to see his buddy pecking his girlfriend on the cheek. Slip the bitch the tongue, grab her boob then smack her ass, or nothing at all. What, are you tryin to make him look like a pussy?
22.Sing, even if he can't.
If you're making him sing even if he can't (or doesn't want to), I hope he forces you to deep throat even if you can't. That ought to shut you up for awhile.
23.Have a creative sense of humor.
Yes dear, do. Find ways to make fun of her to her face without her noticing. Be sure to send me the video.
24.Stare at you.
Why the fuck would you want someone to STARE at you? Most people only stare if you have something in your teeth or hanging out of your nose. And do you really want that feeling all day long? And what if hes driving?!
25.Call for no reason.
What a fucking waste of time. No guy I know calls for no reason. It's not cause he doesn't love you. Most of them just aren't phone people. They don't give a shit how Cindy gave you that weird look in the bathroom. They want to know when they are required to meet you and Deal with your stupid bullshit, to see if they have enough time to get stoned enough to not kill you. And I don't blame them.
26.Quit smoking chewing drinking or drugs because he loves you that much.
Okkkkkkkkkk. Your a fucking cunt sucking moron. If you want a hobby, go to the craft store. You met him smoking, chewing, drinking and toking. Don't expect him to change for you. You are NOT that special. Fuck you and your stupid ideas. If you want a pet, get a dog. Here's a thought. He can stop smoking chewing drinking and drugs when you stop bitching moaning whining and being a needy pain in the ass. It has nothing to do with love, and you're a fucking moron. Get off my planet.
26 Things That A Perfect Guy Would Do
Donated by Anonymous with Commentary by your Favorite Tweeker Chick
1. Know how to make you smile when you are down.
Here's a thought. Tell him. He's not a motherfucking mind reader.
2. Try to secretly smell your hair, but you always notice.
Not only is this stupid, but some of us have alot of fucking hair. If someone tried to sneak a whiff of mine, they'd
most likely suffocate. It's down to my motherfuckin waist. And who the hell wants to smell styling products anyway?
3. Stick up for you, but still respect your independence.
It's bitches like you that get good guys beat up. Shut your fucking yap, grow some fucking balls, and take care of your own shit. Hes your boyfriend, not your keeper. He can't respect your independence if you don't respect it yourself.
4.Give you the remote control during the game.
He can give you the remote during the game. But if you turn the channel, I hope he snatches it out of your grubby little palm and beats you in the temple with it, you stupid bitch.
5. Come up behind you and put his arms around you.
Awww. Isn't that cute. It's also a nice way to get a swift elbow to the gut if timed incorrectly. And anyway, no one wants to see two idiots fawning all over each other.
6. Play with your hair.
Refer to #2. If he's not already passed out, name me ONE fucking female who wouldn't bitch like a mother fucker when their boyfriend "messed up my hair!". Puke. Nice. Make it so the poor guy can't win.
7. His hands always find yours.
Mostly because your moving his off of whatever body parts you decided were off limits, in some stupid attempt to make him "respect" you.
8. Be cute when he really wants something.
I don't know one fucking person who is cute when they really want something. And if this is reffering to sex, don't be suprised if your "Perfect guy" winds up in bed with me or my heterolifemate. You simply don't deserve him, if you are going to treat him like your little toy. I hope hes just as cute when he tells you that he fucked your best friend, because you wouldn't put out, because he wasn't cute enough.
9. Offer you pleanty of massages.
What is this guy? A goddamn massage therapist? If you want your back rub, ask. Some people are great at it (Adam, I've heard rumors!). Be specific with what you want. I know many a guy that if I asked him for a massage, he'd massage my boobs. With his mouth. And you little princesses out there better not forget that guys could use a good back rub once in awhile, too. Don't expect him to fall over doing something for your stupid ass when you're not willing to get him back.
10. Dance with you, even if he feels like a dork.
If your the perfect girlfriend, you should remove your head from your ass and realize that maybe putting your boyfriend into a position where he is uncomfortable is bullshit.
11. Never run out of love.
Three words. What the fuck. No guy I know would make it 10 minutes with a chick like this. Take what you can get, beggars can't be choosers. And for whoever wrote this? I hope you have alot of beer handy, cause that's the only way this man's "Love" isn't running out.
12. Be funny, but know how to be serious.
Ok. Thats fine, Mr Fabulous can do this, as soon as he masters the art of being smart but knowing how to be stupid enough to date you.
13.Realize he's being funny when he needs to be serious.
Give the guy a break. You breaking a nail, getting a splinter or having a zit is not serious. Extra points for lover boy if he makes fun of you for it.
14.Be patient when you take forever to get ready.
Jesus. Bullshit. This cunt would throw a fit about her boyfriend not respecting her time. But making him wait is really respecting his? Thats fine. Any guy I date would be patient while I was taking forever to get ready. At the bar, down the street. Without me.
15.React so cutely when you hit him and it actually hurts.
FUCK that. Punch the bitch back. Hopefully in her pretty little face. See how she likes it. If you need to hit your boyfriend, you have issues.
16.Smile alot.
Smiling alot is easy when you're stupid. Give the guy a break. They have emotions too. And a frown, grimace, sneer, and smirk can be just as sexy as a smile. Get over yourself, you little wench. ::Smiles adorably::
17. Plan a romantic date full of cheesy things he wouldn't normally like to do, just because he knows it means a lot to you.
I'm all for making sacrifices in relationships. But I'll be goddamned if I'll make my boyfriend feel like an ass because something means alot to me. So you want a picnic in the park? Fine. Be happy if you get a blanket on the living room floor with beer and pizza. The guy's trying.
18.Appricate you.
Yes. If I was your boyfriend I'd appricate you too, for what you are. A stupid deluded bitch with some serious issues.
19. Help others out.
If anyone I dated ever tried to help a little old lady across the street, she'd most likely scream, hit him with her purse, and have him arrested. I mean, I wouldn't date someone that kicked a puppy, but these chicks are looking for a boyscout. Sick. Someone should really update the National Sex Offender registry.
20. Drive 5 hours just to see you for 1.
Get off your lazy bitch ass and see him once in awhile. What, is he the only one in the relationship with the ability to drive? Do you expect him to ask your father for permission to date you, as well? (and no, it's NOT romantic, it's stupid).
21.Always gives you a peck on the cheek when you depart from each others company, even when his friends are watching.
Never ask him to do this. No respectable guy wants to see his buddy pecking his girlfriend on the cheek. Slip the bitch the tongue, grab her boob then smack her ass, or nothing at all. What, are you tryin to make him look like a pussy?
22.Sing, even if he can't.
If you're making him sing even if he can't (or doesn't want to), I hope he forces you to deep throat even if you can't. That ought to shut you up for awhile.
23.Have a creative sense of humor.
Yes dear, do. Find ways to make fun of her to her face without her noticing. Be sure to send me the video.
24.Stare at you.
Why the fuck would you want someone to STARE at you? Most people only stare if you have something in your teeth or hanging out of your nose. And do you really want that feeling all day long? And what if hes driving?!
25.Call for no reason.
What a fucking waste of time. No guy I know calls for no reason. It's not cause he doesn't love you. Most of them just aren't phone people. They don't give a shit how Cindy gave you that weird look in the bathroom. They want to know when they are required to meet you and Deal with your stupid bullshit, to see if they have enough time to get stoned enough to not kill you. And I don't blame them.
26.Quit smoking chewing drinking or drugs because he loves you that much.
Okkkkkkkkkk. Your a fucking cunt sucking moron. If you want a hobby, go to the craft store. You met him smoking, chewing, drinking and toking. Don't expect him to change for you. You are NOT that special. Fuck you and your stupid ideas. If you want a pet, get a dog. Here's a thought. He can stop smoking chewing drinking and drugs when you stop bitching moaning whining and being a needy pain in the ass. It has nothing to do with love, and you're a fucking moron. Get off my planet.
I'm offically in a funk. I'm not sure why, but I am. After discussing at length with a good friend of mine, I've realized that I am infact the perfect girl. Which makes me feel much fucking better when I'm laying in bed alone, listening to the sounds of Mr. Whiskers scratching menicingly somewhere in my apartment. Why am I the perfect girl, you ask? Well, I'm going to present my case to you here.
1) I could give a shit if your best friend is a blonde haired blue eyed silocone laden model. As long as you go home with me, I'll shut my fucking mouth.
2) I don't care if you scratch, burp, or fart in my presence. So long as you don't do it at church, family gatherings, or someone's funeral, I actually find it quite amusing.
3) I will never ask you to beat someone up, unless I am in over my head. In which case, I've tried to beat them up already, and have been rendered unconcious.
4) I will never ask you if you think I'm fat. I know I'm fat, what the fuck do I need your input for?
5) I like Irish punk rock (Thanks Sarah!), Frank Zappa, Heavy Metal, and I haven't missed an Ozzfest in 5 years. It would be a cold day in hell before I forced you to listen to BubbleGum Pop.
6) I think the Man Show is fucking hysterical. Especially the commerical where he asks if they had a color printer, because it's more flattering for his junk.
7) I love Corvettes, Vipers, and Mustangs. I do not expect my significant other to have any of these. However, I do expect him to be able to tell them apart. (A blind chimp could do it). I also expect him to agree that the 80s and early 90s were terrible years for Mustangs and Corvettes. (And everything else, if you really want to get down to it).
8) Chances are, you won't find me in a movie without explosions, drug use, nudity, profanity, or fast cars. Better if it has all of the above. I admit, I cry at Disney movies. It's why I don't watch them, or force others to watch them with me.
9) I'm a firm believer that kicking someone in the balls is cheating. I will not hestitate to punch someone in the face, however.
10) I think it sucks that girls can hit guys, but guys can't hit girls. Fuck it. If my boyfriend won't hit a chick only because she's a chick, he'd better be ready for me to do it.
11) I don't like drama. I'm not going to get mad if you get drunk. I'm not going to be mad if you get stoned. I'm not your momma. I will, however, be furious if I see you on Cops in the middle of a police chase driving a stolen Honda Accord while hopped up on methamphetamine. Because no boyfriend of mine would reduce himself to stealing a fucking Honda. It's about as glorified as having a highspeed chase in a golf cart. (See #7).
12) I will not torch your house, kill your dog and sell your CD collection to poor children in Sibera if you break up with me. Unless you cheat on me or hit me. In which case, all bets are off and your ass is mine, and be sure to tell your new cellmate that I send my love.
13) I think most girls are illogical, dramatic, self-serving shitheads who are only out to make people's lives hell. Most should not be allowed to speak. Shit, most shouldn't be allowed to leave the house.
14) I hate feminists. I am not a feminist. I am an equalist. I have ovaries, but you will never see me holding hands with a bunch of hairy, smelly, hippy chicks singing songs around a campfire about our sisterhood. I'm a chick. I don't expect a parade, I just expect equal treatment.
15) I will never use PMS as an excuse to rip anyones face off. If I feel like ripping someone's head off and tacking it to my wall, I don't need to use PMS as an excuse. I am in control of my emotions, and the fucker deserved it.
16) I think guys get a seriously bad rap. It's total bullshit that girls can say things like "All men are worthless pigs who can't complete a thought". Well, look here sister. There's a reason I hang out with guys. They are fun, intellegent, and they won't pretend to be my best friend to my face while screwing my significant other after telling everyone that I'm fat.(See #4). It's also bullshit that almost any guy who comes back with "All women are bitches" is damn near crucified. So here's a thought, ladies, You started it, he's just telling the fuckin truth.
17) I like expensive jewelry and gifts. Simply because they will pay my bills after I pawn them off for cash. If you really want to impress me, remember that I only drink Diet Pepsi and bring me one when you come back from the gas station.
18) I will never tell you what to wear. A T-shirt and jeans is fine with me. But don't expect me to look like a goddamn model, there's a reason I like T-shirts and jeans.
19) I eat. If we go out to dinner, I will not just have a salad with no dressing and water. Alot of girls must have missed that day at school when they told us that you have to eat to stay alive.
20) I am not a slut. I don't put out right away. But that doesn't mean I don't put out, period. I'm not into excuses. I don't get headaches, I'm not too tired, I'm just not horny right now.
21) I've read Maxim and Playboy. I do understand that there are good articles in there. I will, however, stop believing you when the pages start sticking together. (See #1).
And now you have my documented proof that I am the perfect female. Either that, or this is proof I should've been born male. Either way, it works.
I'd like to thank my good male friends for helping me complie this list. Beer chugging and pizza time, soon!
1) I could give a shit if your best friend is a blonde haired blue eyed silocone laden model. As long as you go home with me, I'll shut my fucking mouth.
2) I don't care if you scratch, burp, or fart in my presence. So long as you don't do it at church, family gatherings, or someone's funeral, I actually find it quite amusing.
3) I will never ask you to beat someone up, unless I am in over my head. In which case, I've tried to beat them up already, and have been rendered unconcious.
4) I will never ask you if you think I'm fat. I know I'm fat, what the fuck do I need your input for?
5) I like Irish punk rock (Thanks Sarah!), Frank Zappa, Heavy Metal, and I haven't missed an Ozzfest in 5 years. It would be a cold day in hell before I forced you to listen to BubbleGum Pop.
6) I think the Man Show is fucking hysterical. Especially the commerical where he asks if they had a color printer, because it's more flattering for his junk.
7) I love Corvettes, Vipers, and Mustangs. I do not expect my significant other to have any of these. However, I do expect him to be able to tell them apart. (A blind chimp could do it). I also expect him to agree that the 80s and early 90s were terrible years for Mustangs and Corvettes. (And everything else, if you really want to get down to it).
8) Chances are, you won't find me in a movie without explosions, drug use, nudity, profanity, or fast cars. Better if it has all of the above. I admit, I cry at Disney movies. It's why I don't watch them, or force others to watch them with me.
9) I'm a firm believer that kicking someone in the balls is cheating. I will not hestitate to punch someone in the face, however.
10) I think it sucks that girls can hit guys, but guys can't hit girls. Fuck it. If my boyfriend won't hit a chick only because she's a chick, he'd better be ready for me to do it.
11) I don't like drama. I'm not going to get mad if you get drunk. I'm not going to be mad if you get stoned. I'm not your momma. I will, however, be furious if I see you on Cops in the middle of a police chase driving a stolen Honda Accord while hopped up on methamphetamine. Because no boyfriend of mine would reduce himself to stealing a fucking Honda. It's about as glorified as having a highspeed chase in a golf cart. (See #7).
12) I will not torch your house, kill your dog and sell your CD collection to poor children in Sibera if you break up with me. Unless you cheat on me or hit me. In which case, all bets are off and your ass is mine, and be sure to tell your new cellmate that I send my love.
13) I think most girls are illogical, dramatic, self-serving shitheads who are only out to make people's lives hell. Most should not be allowed to speak. Shit, most shouldn't be allowed to leave the house.
14) I hate feminists. I am not a feminist. I am an equalist. I have ovaries, but you will never see me holding hands with a bunch of hairy, smelly, hippy chicks singing songs around a campfire about our sisterhood. I'm a chick. I don't expect a parade, I just expect equal treatment.
15) I will never use PMS as an excuse to rip anyones face off. If I feel like ripping someone's head off and tacking it to my wall, I don't need to use PMS as an excuse. I am in control of my emotions, and the fucker deserved it.
16) I think guys get a seriously bad rap. It's total bullshit that girls can say things like "All men are worthless pigs who can't complete a thought". Well, look here sister. There's a reason I hang out with guys. They are fun, intellegent, and they won't pretend to be my best friend to my face while screwing my significant other after telling everyone that I'm fat.(See #4). It's also bullshit that almost any guy who comes back with "All women are bitches" is damn near crucified. So here's a thought, ladies, You started it, he's just telling the fuckin truth.
17) I like expensive jewelry and gifts. Simply because they will pay my bills after I pawn them off for cash. If you really want to impress me, remember that I only drink Diet Pepsi and bring me one when you come back from the gas station.
18) I will never tell you what to wear. A T-shirt and jeans is fine with me. But don't expect me to look like a goddamn model, there's a reason I like T-shirts and jeans.
19) I eat. If we go out to dinner, I will not just have a salad with no dressing and water. Alot of girls must have missed that day at school when they told us that you have to eat to stay alive.
20) I am not a slut. I don't put out right away. But that doesn't mean I don't put out, period. I'm not into excuses. I don't get headaches, I'm not too tired, I'm just not horny right now.
21) I've read Maxim and Playboy. I do understand that there are good articles in there. I will, however, stop believing you when the pages start sticking together. (See #1).
And now you have my documented proof that I am the perfect female. Either that, or this is proof I should've been born male. Either way, it works.
I'd like to thank my good male friends for helping me complie this list. Beer chugging and pizza time, soon!
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
So, Chris finally updated his blog so I don't have to kill him. But if he thinks doing it once a month is acceptable he's WRONG! Heh. He should know by NOW that I could beat him up. His excuse? "I'm boring". Well, honeybearsweetiepiepunkinhead, Clare doesn't hang out with boring people. Go get arrested or something, that always makes for a good blog.
Party at my place tonight!
Every time we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet.
Every roommate kept awake
By every sigh and scream we make
All the feelings that I get
But I haven't missed you yet.
Only when I stop to think about it..
I hate everything about you.
Why do I love you?
Party at my place tonight!
Every time we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet.
Every roommate kept awake
By every sigh and scream we make
All the feelings that I get
But I haven't missed you yet.
Only when I stop to think about it..
I hate everything about you.
Why do I love you?
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