Sunday, December 26, 2004
I got the greatest gift ever for Christmas.
A letter telling me I've been laid off due to lack of work, postmarked on the 22nd.
Merry fucking Christmas, Clare.
So yea, I've not been in the mood to update or change around my links or anything.
The kicker of this entire deal?
I get a letter in the mail saying I'm laid off right before Christmas and how if work picks up they will call me. (By the way, if you are reading this, don't bother).
Christmas is a hard financial time for most people, myself included. So thrilled, I was not.
So I'm sure you can imagine my joy when I got the voicemail that cheerfully informed me that I was still welcome at their Christmas party.
Now that, takes balls.
The problem being, I have to find a job, soon.
I don't want to tell my parents and worry them, seeing as they've stressed repeatedly that things are tight right now.
So if anyone wants to give me a job, like now, I'd appriciate it.
To top it off, I spent Christmas alone. Because, suprise, I thought I had to work.
Way to fuck me straight up my ass, guys.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
It's been over a month.
I've been horrifically busy.
My schedule is something like this:
Research Methods: Sit beside stoner kid who says brilliant things like "heh. whoa" and "What were we talking about again?" in between the occasional boring video about ethics in research. Contemplate throwing self out the window.
Theories of Personality: Sit by same window I debated throwing myself out of. Realize that by throwing myself out of that window, I wouldn't be able to hear my professor say things like "You just want to jump someone's bones. But since no one wants you to do that, we need to find a viable alternative". Occasionally make a tally of how many times she says "penis" during lecture. Start another tally for every time she makes a penis joke.
Dinosaurs and Extinction: Sit by my friend, and wonder why my buddy won't speak to me if his girlfriend is within a 4 mile radius of the classroom. Wonder if Dr. Hammer was hot when he was younger (and had hair). Actually pay attention, seeing as he discovered a dinosaur and is a funny mother fucker.
Religion, Culture and Archeology: Ponder the existence of god for 2 hours, coming to the conclusion that if god does exist, he does indeed hate me.
The rest of my valuable time is spent at work.
I now work with computers, and idiots. It's like data processing, but I'm the one they call if something fucks up.
Which is lovely, but when I'm not doing that I get to do some data entry.
And I hate you mother fuckers.
So now I present you with my guide to not sounding like a douche on the fucking phone.
1. Shut off the fucking TV, turn down the radio, and sedate your children. It is really fucking hard to understand you when you are bitching to little Billy not to put his dick in the dog.
2. Speak slowly and distinctly. And when I say that I mean about as slowly as you would speak to a person that was copying down something. No slower. We work with computers, we aren't retarded. However, if you have an accent in which you can't pronounce most vowels, be sure you spell if necessary. Most of us don't speak "ignorant hick".
3. If the computer asks you for an email, or some other bit of information you don't have, you have one of two options. Say "none" and shut your hole, or simply don't respond. The longer you say 'None, I don't have one, NONE!" the longer the computer will record it before moving to the next field, and the longer I have to listen to you. Don't even think about screaming in to that phone, either, I can easily find out where you mother fuckers live.
4. For the love of all that is holy, pay attention. I can't count the number of times I've asked for an email address and gotten "3928 Harrington Street, MomFuck Arkansas, 40929".
5. If you have an email address, spell it out. People think they are cute and spell them all sorts of cutesy ways that are nothing close to the original spellings of the word. If you fail to do this, I will store your email address in my short term memory, go home, and sign up your email (or any possible variation of it) to geriatric gay beastiality mailing lists, and various online Christian publications. And lets face it, nothing is scarier than a god fanatic with access to the information superhighway followed by Grandpa Moses and his boyfriend defiling Mr. Ed.
6. Remember, there are people who have to listen to your stupid ass, present yourself accordingly. Remember, we are the people who process your refunds, your credit cards, your mail, etc, and you are starting to piss us off.
Bush Dress Up Doll
A Guide To Offing Yourself Like A Man.
Making Kids Cry Is Fun.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
I hate finals.
My entire life comes unglued around finals time.
Seriously. I lose all rational thought because my brain is so full of random other useless shit that I'll never use, like the difference between a one factor ANOVA and a T-Test.
Almost done though.
My trainer has decided that he wants me to keep a food journal.
Now. In the middle of the hell week, right before thanksgiving.
I assume it's going to look something like this:
Breakfast: Sour patch kids, coffee
Lunch: Diet Pepsi
Breakfast: Chocolate, diet pepsi
Dinner: An entire pizza
Dinner: Diet Pepsi
Moving on. In my combing of F.U.B.A.R. I found the best link ever.
It's about exactly why you shouldn't shave your ass.
I'll give you a snippet, and let you read the rest on your own. (Quit your bitching, all you lazy bastards have to do is click a link). "I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry. "
Anyway, I leave you with some random links to check out.
This is my Dexxy.
Creepy Bob's Boards.Go here. Look at porn. Sign up. Post witty, relevant things. Post total shit. I don't care.
Science put to it's best use yet. Making alcohol taste better.
Sex Scandal Rocks Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory!
Bruce Lee Crotch Violence Research Institute. Enough Said.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
All we need are matching tattoos. Boondock Saints style.
TweekerChickQC: I'll be sure to be like "My heterolifemate doesn't even know you and she hates you, that is how much you suck".
HLM: Do it!
HLM: I want her to hate me back.
HLM: So i have an excuse to cut her if i come across her in a dark alley.
HLM: "She threatened me with her presence and std's officer, it was self defense"
Monday, November 08, 2004
I met Ron Jeremy.
No shit whatsoever at all.
He was at the titty bar, I went there with Dawn and Sarah...
long story short.
I offered to make out with Sarah (didn't happen don't get too excited).
We got our picture taken with the Big Dong Dood.
He commented about Sarah's Pimpness.
He grabbed my ass, and told me it was "fabulous". He also told me I had a pretty name.
He proceeded to misspell my "pretty name" on the poster he signed for me.
I suppose you can't win them all.
Oh, and Dawnie got some titties crammed in her face.
But yea, I have a big ego now.
My ass is now what my friend calls "Grade A, Ron Jeremy Approved".
On another note, Shawn is back, so I've been busy entertaining him.
He's my best friend. He's got the attention span of a coked up chimp. It's been hard.
Pop over to
Creepy Bob's Boards.He gave me power to abuse.
But shit, give the man some money, would ya?
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
They really know what matters in life.
TweekerChickQC: I've missed you lately hon!
TweekerChickQC: I thought you left me with someone with a small
head or social retardation or something.
NapalmMage: LOL Nah, things have just been heavy lately.
NapalmMage: There is one plus to having a chick with a small head
TweekerChickQC: What's that?
NapalmMage: My dick looked friggin HUGE in her mouth.
Friday, October 22, 2004
A new Tucker Update. I live for this shit.
My favorite site, Lowbrow is back up, I will update my links soon enough.
Now, on to the goods.
I didn't write them.
Walter Sobchak from F.U.B.A.R. recently graced our boards with a guide on giving good oral.
He is a god among men.
"Licking is cheating. Don't get me wrong, though.... it's an essential part of closing the deal.
Most guys that lick pussy are just afraid to get "hands dirty". They like to spread the upper labia exposing the clit, and lick the poor fucker to death. The main problem with that is that you can over stimulate the girl. Not only does it illustrate a lack of interest and creativity, but it can become uncomfortable for the girl. Think of this as the nitrous button on a car in the movies... you have to get the RPM's up until it's the right time to hit the boost.
Eating pussy is what it's all about. Get your fucking face in there, man! Don't just lick the clit. Stick your tongue IN THE PUSSY. Repeat after me: IN-THE-PUSSY. Lick the alphabet, pretend your in a poorly dubbed kung-fu movie, speak Japanese, etc.. Listen to your girl's moans and pay attention. Learn to respond to her body, not your own.
When the tea kettle's going "ooooooohhhhhhhh".....
RED ALERT - RED ALERT - LICK THE CLIT - LICK THE CLIT.......
....and BAM : Karate Explosion"
And they say guys don't know what they're doing.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Why? She says exactly what I'm usually thinking.
God help us if she ever decides to let her id lead her one day.
HLM: Yay orgies!
HLM: I mean...
HLM: Yeah, I mean it. Yay orgies.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
I was inspired to make a brief update by Chris, who is in fact, not dead. I've also heard from a very reliable source who shall remain nameless that he got more buff (I always thought he was anyway). But regardless, this is something I demand to see for myself! He owes me drunk time!
Also, Jon Stewart is my hero. He wins for the bowtie comment.
I started working out again, seeing as prednisone has made me gain more weight than Roseanne on an icecream bender, and I kind of want to die. And by "kind of want to die" I mean, I really want to die. Muscles hurt that I didn't even know I had. If I lift my arms, they might fall off. My thighs burn, and I may or may not have a cramp in my butt. I didn't even know that was possible.
Apparently this guy knew all about it.
On another note, I put in my two weeks at my job. One might ask why I would do that when I love my kids as much as I do.
The answer is simple my friends. I adore my kids at work. I'd do anything for them at any time. They are my babies. They make me feel like I make a difference in the world, and I love spending time with them.
However, my direct supervisors are complete asshats, and I can't subject myself to one more moment with them for fear that I will wind up on top of a water tower with a rifle.
It all started when I got chewed out for not showing up to a shift that I wasn't scheduled to work anyway. Schedule me on my day off all you want, my fat ass still isn't coming in to work. This old bitch chews me out for ten minutes, in front of my kids and staff. I'm not one to apologize, even when I know I'm wrong, so the chances of me sucking it up and apologizing for something that I didn't do are slim to none. My habit of doing this really tends to piss my superiors off.
So, I get shipped off to go to the Haunted House, Hardees and Church with a group of kids. Gone for upwards of 7 hours. During this 7 hour time one of the kids back at the shelter flooded the upstairs toilet. It was a goddamn disgusting mess, I'll spare you the details.
That old bat of a boss that has it out for me not only waits 7 goddamn hours to have someone fix it, she makes, surprise surprise, me do it. Not the other staff that was there when it happened (although its their responsibility).
Being the 'team player' I am, I give it a whirl. And promptly almost barf all over everything. I pull the old bitch to the side to tell her that this isn't going to happen, as it's company policy that we don't have to do anything that makes us uncomfortable.
She looked at me and said, I swear to god "The longer it takes for you to clean it up, the longer it'll take for you to go home". Now, knowing that she can't go home until I do, I decide that not only am I not going to clean it up, but I'm going to take a shitload of time not cleaning it up.
During the time that I was busy faking cleaning it up (and trust me, I wouldn't step in that bathroom again, ever), that Geritol popping lazy eyed cunt sent the rest of the staff home, and forced me to stay after and do the laundry, which again, another staff could've easily done.
I gathered up the last shards of my dignity and I punched out that night almost two hours after my shift was supposed to end.
I also wrote my letter of resignation.
Effective November 1, 2004 I am resigning from my position as Youth Service Worker at Valley Shelter Homes.
I thank you for the opportunity to work here, and the knowledge I've gained will be valuable for my studies and future employment in the field.
He sends me a note, saying he wants me to stay, as I'm the best and the brightest staff he has. Bless his heart, he tried to be accommodating, but I just can't stay.
I have carefully considered your offer, and regret to inform you that nothing short of firing half of your staff and promising me vacation time, a Lexus and $38 an hour will get me to stay at this institution. I love the kids, and the staff, but your senior staff coordinators are nothing short of petty assholes who need to be shot in the forehead. I pray someday that I will run this bitch and they will clean my toilet.
So as you all can see, I can't stay at the job anymore. However, he did promise me a shining reference. And maybe that last HALF isn't EXACTLY how things went, but you get the idea.
Oh and Myrlene, if you're reading this: Fuck you and your mom.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Friday, October 08, 2004
I was in the elevator in the library, looking a hot mess as usual. Red hoodie, hair looking like a small animal had nested in it, no makeup, baggy pants. Real goddamn sexy, I know.
The only other person in the elevator was one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever seen. Tall, muscular, green eyes...amazing looking.
And he was staring.
Great. I probably had something hanging out of my nose or stuck in my teeth or something, and here I am with this amazing looking man.
No sooner had I thought "Well God thinks I'm fucking hilarious", I realized that this man was talking. A quick look around the elevator reaffirmed the fact that he was indeed talking to me.
The transcript of our conversation went something like this:
Amazingly Sexy Guy: I'm sorry..
Tweeker Chick: ...huh? Good start, Clare. Make sure you're not drooling, too.
ASG: I know this sounds really dumb...
TC: It's ok if your dumb, as long as you get naked.
ASG: But you remind me of someone.
TC: I hear that a lot. Who? If he says his sister, I'm faking a seizure to end this conversation.
ASG: I told you this was weird...but there's this website...
TC: Oh fuck.
ASG: And the girl who writes it is hilarious. She's this cute little thing...
TC: Well you know THAT'S not me.Really?
ASG: She's hilarious. You look just like her. I wish I could remember the name of the site.
TC: What does she write about?
ASG: Everything. She's the coolest chick alive, she's even got the Paris Hilton tape linked up.
TC: Shit. You really don't remember the site?
ASG: Something about "Say My Name"...it's crazy how much you resemble her. I guess she lives around here.
TC: That is really fucked up. That is REALLY fucked up.
ASG: I was pretty sure you weren't her.
TC: I guess you never know, right?
ASG: I guess not.
You never really do know, do ya?
What can I say. It has been awhile since I've fucked with someone, and I needed some new material.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Here's her take on Emo.
HLM: she's out there and rather emo.
HLM: so i don't know
TweekerChickQC: Blah. Emoness.
HLM: i agree with poole. its a way of being a drama queen without admitting it.
HLM: they're like the pussywhipped cousins of those with real angst.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Sandra "Bo" Glines
1965 - 2004
Funeral services celebrating the life of Sandra "Bo" Glines, 38, of Bettendorf, will be 10 a.m. today at McGinnis-Chambers Funeral Chapel, Bettendorf. Burial will be in Davenport Memorial Park Cemetery. Bo loved motorcycles and friends with motorcycles are welcome to join the procession to the cemetery. Visitation was 2 to 4 and 6 to 8 p.m. Monday at the funeral home. Memorials may be made to the family.
Bo died Saturday, Sept. 18, 2004, at University Hospital in Iowa City following an extended illness.
Sandra Dawn Patterson was born Nov. 20, 1965, in Davenport, the daughter of Richard and Sally (Shaffer) Patterson. She grew up in Bettendorf and attended Pleasant Valley High School. She married Kenneth A. Glines on May 27, 1987, in Bettendorf. She had worked in childcare and operated a window cleaning business.
Bo's wide interests ranged from "Little House on the Prairie" to professional wrestling; porcelain dolls to Harleys. She was outspoken and strong minded, liked verbal sparring, and could trade barbs with the best. She participated in softball and volleyball, and played to win.
Those who knew Bo will remember her humor and quick wit, along with her colorful style of expression. She looked forward to any holiday, and her family's celebrations have created many lasting memories. She had a special way with children, and was especially fond of her grandson, Tyler. Bo was a truly unique individual. She approached all that she did with great passion and tenacity, and these qualities remained strong during her battle with illness. She will be dearly missed by family and friends.
Those left to honor her memory include husband, Ken; a daughter, Kimberly Dawn Glines, and her companion, David Rose, Bettendorf; her mother, Sally Patterson, of Davenport; her grandmother, Martha Shaffer, of Davenport; her sister, Bonnie Davidson, of Pleasant Valley; her brothers, Richard Patterson, of Davenport, and Michael Patterson, of Moline; her grandson, Tyler Rose; her mother-in-law, Thelma Glines, of LeClaire, Iowa; nine nieces and nephews; and a large extended family.
She was preceded in death by her father and father-in-law, Glen Glines.
I'll miss you Bo. Give em hell.
"Dork falls 500 feet in Grand Canyon
GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK, Arizona (AP) -- A dork was like, you know, scoped croaked after falling from a trail in Grand Canyon National Park and landing like, you know, about 500 feet below, a park spokeswoman said Monday.
Efforts to recover the dork's body using a helicopter were hampered by high wind Monday and park spokeswoman Leah McGinnis said an attempt would be made Tuesday.
It was like, you know, an unclear why the dork fell while hiking Saturday, McGinnis said. His wife totally had been walking in front of him and didn't see him fall.
Authorities didn't release the dork's identity"
One of my favorite coworkers passed away.
1955 - 2004
Michael L. Pollard, 48, of Moline, died Thursday, Sept. 16, 2004, at his home.
Funeral services will be 11 a.m. Tuesday, Sept. 21, at Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church, East Moline. Visitation will be on Monday from 6 to 8 p.m. at Esterdahl Mortuary Ltd., 6601 38th Ave., Moline. Burial will be at Riverside Cemetery, Moline. Memorials may be made to establish an eductional fund for Nathan.
Michael was born Sept. 26, 1955, in Davenport, the son of Lawrence and Annette (Leavy) Pollard.
Michael was an officer for county and federal institutions and also a residential counselor for Valley Shelter, Davenport.
Michael enjoyed practicing the martial arts, and being in the outdoors. He was also a news and history buff. He was a member of the Jesus Church of the Quad Cities, Silvis, Ill.
Survivors include son, Nathan McCray Pollard, Chicago; father, Lawrence Pollard, Moline; mother, Annette Pollard, Moline; previously married to Judith McCray, Chicago; sisters, Devra Pollard, Tampa, Fla., and Michele Pollard (Edwards Nunn), Woodbury, Minn.; cousin, DeWitt Pollard; and special friends, Chris Jenkins and Jerrlyn Crabtree and Aaron Arrington.
He will also be missed by many aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins and friends.
He was preceded in death by a brother, Duane, and his paternal and maternal grandparents.
Now I don't know who's going to be ready with a flashlight, pen, or quick wit when I need one.
Friday, September 17, 2004
But here's a new link for you guys.
She emailed me and asked me to link her up, and after reading her content she seems pretty ok. Even if she is a girl.
So here you go.
A New York Escorts Confessions
Sunday, September 12, 2004
The one thing about college that drives me nuts is that although there are all sorts of new people, most of them are douchebags. So I present to you, the defining characteristics and ways of identifying these asshats.
I. Future sorority girls. These are the most easily identifiable by their use of words such as "like" and "ohmigod". They are normally found leaning against the wall outside of the popular dormitories. Not because this is cool, simply because they are normally too drunk to figure out the intricate workings of the door. Their distinguishing characteristics include abnormally tall shoes, heavy foundation and the chronic inability to dress appropriately for the weather. You can often find these girls crying in the bathroom mumbling phrases such as "he promised he'd call" and "he said he loved me".
II. Future fraternity boys. These are the perfect compliment to the girls above. They are normally very good looking, with perfectly styled hair. They wear Abercrombie shirts, with cut off khaki shorts, and flip flops even in 3 feet of snow and sub zero temperatures. They contribute very little to conversations, but can make a hell of a beer bong. They spend a lot of time with their friends, comparing notes about the future sorority girls.
III. Future hate crime victims. Every college campus has these, however, being a liberal arts campus, we seem to have the monopoly. These people are often openly gay or bisexual, and feel the need to share it with the world. They walk around with shaved heads, rainbow clothing, cut off army pants and Doc Martens. Their faces are constantly pierced, and most of them drive cutesy SUVs with vanity plates that state things like "ieatit2" which are barely visible beyond the many rainbow stickers. If you hate them, it's not because they are douche bags. It's because they are gay. If they get a speeding ticket, it's not because they were going thirty miles over the speed limit in a school zone and ran over a small child, it's because they are bisexual. Their sexuality is a badge for the entire world to behold.
IV. Hippies. You can't miss them. They spend most of their time in the quad, laying on their backs, polluting the air with the sounds of New Age music and phrases like "Man". The males are easily identifiable because most tend to look like Jesus in a tye-dye shirt and ripped jeans. The hemp necklaces are a dead give away.
V. Women's Studies Majors/Feminists. These people scare the crap out of me. If not for the lack of personal hygiene (yes, shaving can be considered personal hygiene) or the lack of necessary undergarments (Bras. Please) the lack of any common sense seems to do them in. Everyone is sexist. I'm sexist because I'd rather hang out with males than females. You're sexist because I know you're only reading this because it's written by a somewhat good looking female. Society sucks because women wear bras and makeup, and men get to run around like Neanderthal slobs. At least, that's what they think. Not only do women deserve rights, they deserve more rights than most men. Men are Neanderthal pigs that are inherently rapists and only good for fixing my car. These are the females who oppose words like "Mankind" or "Postman" for "Humankind" and "Postwoman". They also like to conjugate in large groups and scream like wild banshees about "Taking back the night" with their sisters.
VI. Stoners. Gotta love the stoners, because the stoners love you. Technically, they love everyone. These are the ones that sit next to you in philosophy in a tyedye shirt with a bucket hat pulled down over their eyes. Sunglasses are a necessity, even at midnight. These are the people who truly understand the wonders of green koolaid, how cool philosophy is, and why Bob Marley really is god. They are not to be confused with Hippies. Hippies don't like the man, Stoners could give a shit about the man unless he's bogarting the blunt. These are the guys to chill with, as they are normally the funniest people alive.
VII. Sluts. Every campus has one of these. I will spare the noticeable characteristics of these creatures, and instead give you a story (with fuzzy details, seeing as this was years ago). It was the first night on campus and I was lucky enough to go home with a certain good looking Frat Guy who lived off campus. After laying in his bed and talking about random shit, we decided it was time to pass out. He handed me a pair of boxers to chill in and a t-shirt. Little did I know that the girl who went through the fraternity in almost its entirety had used those shorts. I spent the rest of the night convinced that I was going to catch ghonnasyphaherpelypse from the goddamn boxer shorts he lent me. This is why we don't like sluts.
More later, when I get mad, get done with this paper, or feel like it.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Oh it's me. Thus, this post isn't going to be spell checked.
Thanks Adam, Jen, Bouge, and my Heterolifemate.
It wa ssuper fun. Pictures soon, I hope.
Anyway, here are some links for you guys until I sober up:
And here I thought it only made you go blind.
An old favorite.
This guy is just the shit.
Yay for alchohol. Now, if only chris woulf come give me my snuggles, I'd be happy.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Not a lot to say. Either FUBAR is down, or I was suspended (still deciding, got a nice little message about it).
So, until then, check out Chris's blog. He's the guy who makes this one look as pretty as it does, so be sure to give him much love.
Sorry so short, more updates about life, love, drugs and why the song The Perfect Drug is stuck in my messed up little head.
Monday, August 23, 2004
It all started at Ozzfest, when I got to chill with the Black Label Society guys, meet Dez from Coal Chamber, see Rob Halford, talk to the guys in Slipknot, and chill with Down.
Awesome FUCKING show.
Little did I know that the Metallica/Godsmack concert would out do them all.
After suffering endless hours in the beer line, Sarah and I make it to our seats...directly behind an entire row of some of the most attractive looking guys I think I've ever seen.
Long story short because I still ache...
They bought us many beers, much alcohol was consumed, tattoos were shown, butts were grabbed and I found out that the entire row was not just some random good looking guys, they were actually Jabher Box.
I promised them a plug on my site, because Jason stole me flowers from a planter and sang Master Of Puppets to me (who can say no to that?!)
So there you are! Click the link, check em out, they fucking rock.
More random rants and ramblings later, I'm still worn out.
Friday, August 20, 2004
Let me fill you all in on a little bit of background, first. Jeremy and I were together. He was also together with one of my best friends, Deanne. Long story short, the entire thing blew up, almost broke up the friendship, and Deanne and I now hate his fucking guts.
I get a call from his friend.
He was arrested. Public intox and harassing an officer.
And to this I have only one thing to say.
Oh yea, FUBAR is back up and running, I'll get my links going again as soon as I'm not being a lazy bitch.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
HLM: I always believed you, but at least now I know first hand how you
TweekerChickQC: Isn't it awful?
HLM: haha I better go to bed. I found the jar of pickles in my fridge
that look way to appealing
TweekerChickQC: How many mgs are you on?
HLM: I dunno. something really low, but I'm a pussy when it comes to
those kind of drugs.
HLM: like 4 or 14 or something per pill, and I started with 6 a day.
TweekerChickQC: 5 or 10?
HLM: umm. oh, maybe 10
HLM: its far away. I'm not getting up to look
TweekerChickQC: Lucky shit.
TweekerChickQC: Last time they gave me 40 mgs.
HLM: yours is like five hundred
TweekerChickQC: I was nuttier than a fruitcake.
HLM: yeah, see, mine's for a rash, not asthma.
HLM: and seriously, aleve makes me tweek, so I would die from that
HLM: I can drink like a true irish girl, but my ancestors were obviously
too poor to do drugs.
Friday, August 13, 2004
I don't expect a national holiday every August 12th, although I think I deserve one, but let me tell you this, eating cake all alone in your apartment sucks a big fat nut. To top it off, FUBAR is no more and I didn't have anyone to play with. Fuck that shit.
My sixteenth birthday sucked a lot too, but at least then I had my dog to chill with. I didn't even have that as two of them died and the other one now lives in Minnesota. I'm in a bad fucking mood, so here are my list of demands for next year which I expect to be met in a timely manner, in no particular order.
1) Vin Diesel, delivered to my apartment in a very large chocolate cake with rapsberry filling and purple icing. And not that lavender color, either. Purple.
2) My friends to actually plan on chilling with me, for more than a 3 hour period.
3) A very large, very attractive male to carry me home from the bars. This person cannot be Vin Diesel because Vin will be otherwise occupied.
4) A very fast, very expensive car, somewhat resembling the batmobile, to cruise around town with. No fair having it stolen, I want the title, bitch.
5) I want my best friend to come play with me without his psychotic girlfriend.
6) I want a million dollar shopping spree, and to look like Angelina Jolie, all without the inconvenience of exercising or actually working in any way shape or form.
7) Finally, I want to own the world.
Is that too much to fucking ask?
Thursday, August 12, 2004
TweekerChickQC: Hmm. Its my birthday. Think they'll let me just run around naked?
PacManJesus: give it a shot
PacManJesus: if you get arrested it sure as hell wont be by a guy
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Until my doorbell rang.
I walked downstairs, white powdery paint across my nose, to see two cops standing there. Apparently, the neighbors had called the cops. Complaining of my odd hours, chemical smell, and unusual noises. I let them up to look around (yes, without a search warrant. Spare me the legalities, I'm not doing anything wrong). Finally Barney Fife looked at me and announced "The unusual noise is from your fan, the chemical smell from your spray paint, but what about your weird hours?" "I'm in college, and I work 64 hours a week with children".
He looked at me, smiled and said "Well, your paint looks nice" and left.
It was then I noticed the white paint all over my nose.
Thank god the paint was still wet, I would've had a lot of explaining to do.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Well, thats a lie. I like actually being out. It's the getting ready to go out I hate. Seriously. The guys I know take a shower, get dressed, throw on some deodorant and shave. Maybe throw a little bit of gel in the hair if needed.
I wish it was that easy for me.
I normally start with a shower, in which I have to choose between 4 different conditioners so I can decide what I want my hair to smell like. Then comes the shaving of the legs. Not only is it impossible not to miss a spot, it's time consuming. Atleast 15 minutes. It normally takes me longer because I always nick this one spot on the back of my leg (I have a scar there from it) and spend a good 20 minutes trying to stop the bleeding. It's like hitting a fucking artery, I damn near bled to death in my bathtub once.
Once out of the shower, its a choice between lotions. Flowery or fruity? Shimmering or regular? Once I choose one, and slather it on, I spend about 15 minutes writhing around in pain because I'm a dumb fuck and just put lotion in that one spot I always nick on my leg. It hurts like a bitch. If you don't believe me, try it.
When I regain conciousness, it's makeup time. The goal here is to look as good as possible without having the makeup wear off a half an hour into the night. This is impossible without looking like Tammy Fae. I've given up. Once I have a beer my eyeliner just runs down my face anyway. I just pretend its a trend. Lipstick is pointless, too. All it does is show off how perfect my teeth are, because thats where it always ends up. On my fuckin teeth.
Then there's clothes. I'm a chunky ass, thus making dressing difficult. Try finding something sexy that covers your fat ass at the same time. It's almost impossible. I've taken to lowcut shirts and anything dark enough on the bottom that helps hide the fact that my ass is so big it looks like I'm trying to smuggle two midgets into the club.
Technically I should add a paragraph on purses. I don't do them. It's just one more thing for me to lose when I get shitfaced drunk. Thus, I wear pants with pockets so I can shove my ID, credit card, cash, cell phone, lipgloss, compact, and inhaler in them. I was thinking of investing in a tool belt.
On to shoes. There are 2 options here. Slut boots that are damn sexy but kill my feet and make me look taller than everyone else, and the heels. You have to be damn good to wear heels. Heels were designed by Hitler as a form of torture. I have a ton of them, I'm still not brave enough to wear them to the club. Too many exposed toes. Not to mention, running in heels doesn't happen. Try running from the skeevy guy in the club in a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels. Actually, try standing in Manolos. I dare you. So it's the boots. Which are actually damn sexy, but come up to my knees. Thus my legs are sweaty, sticky and itchy the entire night. Which is fine. They add so much height that I can ask someone else to scratch them for me, they are about at everyone else's arm level.
The hair issue is my biggest downfall. I can leave it curly, and let it do it's own thing and look like Don King for half of the night...or I can straighten it and weigh it down with shine serums and straightening balms so it can get curly and look like shit for the other half of the night. No matter what I do it ends up the same way. In a messy bun that I sculpt out of a hair tie, a little bit of lotion and the beer that every idiot seems to spill in to my hair. I'm like MacGyver when it comes to hair.
This getting ready shit is supposed to be easy, right? Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Does any one else almost bleed to death in an attempt to go out to the club? Perhaps I just frequent the wrong places. Give me a place where I can throw on some ripped jeans and a t-shirt, and throw my hair in a ponytail. I'll probably be much nicer.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Until then, here's a little bit of why I adore this guy.
TweekerChickQC: And by cute I mean, damn you look hot there.
PacManJesus: i was horribly hung over
TweekerChickQC: Awww. hangovers are cute as long as I dont have one
TweekerChickQC: Ive never had one, would like to keep it that way
PacManJesus: i used to not get one
PacManJesus: then i started drinking
He's good looking, too. I think we can keep him.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
I know. Bad Tweekerchick. But I've been busy, and honestly I haven't had a whole hell of a lot to say.
Still thinking of a post for ThatsJustNotRight. Any suggestions that don't involve nudity on my part are welcome.
Ignoring previous warnings, I saw Catwoman today. Not that I had a choice, I was one of the lucky staff chosen to take the kids at work to go see it.
I want those 2 hours of my life back. Regardless of the fact that Halle Berry looks hot in leather, the movie sucked my left tit. Seriously. The diolauge was horrendous, the fight scenes looked staged, and the plot...well...finding Waldo is easier.
Save your eight dollars. Or better yet, send it to me so I can go treat myself to a movie that doesn't suck ass.
I'm a happy Tweeker Chick. The Single Man Of My Dreams is coming to play with me the weekend of my birthday (I hope). Hooray! I can't wait. It'll be a good ol hedonistic free for all. Haven't had one of those in awhile. In all honesty, I can't wait though. I'm finally old enough to legally drink with Chris! It's about damn time. He owes me drunken time since before he packed his bags and moved away. Hrmpf. I don't hold a grudge, nope. Not me.
Well I feel shitty leaving such a short post, but I feel like royal shit and I need to go to bed. So check out Ask Pud. I think I'd marry this guy.
Monday, July 19, 2004
It is human nature to be upset when someone calls you a name. Most normal people allow it to slide off of their backs and go about their merry way. But there is always that one phrase, that one name, that one little jab, that makes even the nicest of the nice go completely berserk. I found mine today. My boss, lets call him...Dave...decided to take it upon himself to call over my friend/supervisor...who shall remain nameless...to discuss an issue involving me and the (false) idea that I gave my work keys to one of the kids. His little girlfriend, lets call her Evil Claire just to shake things up a little bit, decided to call him on his day off, to feed him this line of bullshit. When the Nameless Supervisor explained what really happened, his response was simple. "Well, Clare's a liar".
Now, mother fucker. I am a lot of things. But I am not a liar.
I lie about two things, and two things only. The drugs I do and the people I have sex with. And anyone who tells you they don't lie about those two things is lying to you. Now. In all fairness, lets break this down.
Example 1: Although against policy, Dave continues to have a relationship with Evil Claire outside of work. Seeing as he is senior staff coordinator and she is just a staff, this is a big no no. When confronted about this, Dave claimed to have nothing but a working relationship with the staff. Maybe they discuss work over the pitchers of beer in the seedy places they hang out.
Example 2: When asked if he fraternized with any of the staff, Dave said no. Earlier this year he attended a kegger at a staff's apartment, and helped carry Evil Claire home. Maybe he was unclear on the definition of "fraternization".
Example 3: When asked if he had any relationship other than a professional relationship with Evil Claire, Dave stated no. However, she calls him on his cellphone during her cigarette breaks, and numerous times during the shift. Staff is not permitted to have cell phones, and one would assume that having the bosses number implies more than just a working relationship. Maybe she's trying to "work" her way up the corporate ladder.
Example 4: Although against policy, Dave continues to call staff in on a one on one basis about rumors that involve Evil Claire. He claims never to have done this, although when the rumor was going around that Sandra got suspended, he all but did a little dance and make a goddamn sign.
Example 5: Although he claims never to play favorites, one time I saw him kissing Evil Claire in the parking lot. I am open to the idea that I may be mistaken. He might have been giving her CPR while standing up, or trying to eat her face, but it sure looked like a kiss to me.
The logical conclusion that one can draw is that not only is Dave a liar, he is also a miserable little asshat. Not that I can blame him. He's 40, balding and makes less than $8 an hour. I'd be a dickhead too if my wife made more than I did, I had a beer belly, a little dick and a shitty car. And on a side note, buy bigger pants. Nut-cutters are not attractive. It must be rough having to try to dick the 23 year old bleach-blonde meth addict at work to try to get a piece.
It's okay, Dave. Everyone has things they suck at. Yours just happens to be life.
Their site kicks some ass, so check it out.
Sunday, July 18, 2004
20 Questions To A Better Personality
This is what they came up with for me.
You are an SEDF--Sober Emotional Destructive Follower. This makes you an evil genius. You are extremely focused and difficult to distract from your tasks. With luck, you have learned to channel your energies into improving your intellect, rather than destroying the weak and unsuspecting.Your friends may find you remote and a hard nut to crack. Few of your peers know you very well--even those you have known a long time--because you have expert control of the face you put forth to the world. You prefer to observe, calculate, discern and decide. Your decisions are final, and your desire to be right is impenetrable.You are not to be messed with. You may explode.
It sounds alot like me. Except for the sober part.
So, until I feel better, there's some porn on the left. Cameron Diaz, Pamela Lee, Gena Lee Nolin, all that good shit. Enjoy.
Friday, July 16, 2004
Monday, July 12, 2004
Anyway. I thought I'd be nice, and add Fucking Fred to my list of links. For all of you who missed the Paris Hilton Sex Tape deal.
I think I might move to Canada. I was reading through my Yahoo news, and I see President Bush, claiming that he has made America safer. I also found a story about his opposition to gay marriage.
I for one, would just love to thank President Bush for making our country a safer place to live in. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if gay people were allowed to marry? I thank President Bush for not giving them the chance to be treated equally under the laws of this country, and I would personally like to shake his hand for his attention to this very serious issue.
People in Iraq are having their heads blown off because he can't tell his ass from his elbow, but our President is smart enough to know the real danger...gays getting married. It would be a travesty if those queers had the same opportunity to be as miserable as the rest of us.
Thank god we have a President who understands what's really going on.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
But I pulled up my pages, and all of my graphics are broken.
Thanks for the emails, kiddies. I'm working on the problem right now. Ok, well, I'm debating calling Chris and offering him sexual favors to fix it, but that is besides the point.
Until then, I'm reviving this link. Yup. Good ol Paris Hilton fucking, sucking and answering the cellphone.
This is for you, Shanda.
At the top is a banner that says "Enter your email address" and "are you 18?" then "JOIN". Enter your email, click yes, and click join. They will send an email, click on the hyperlink in that email. You have to sort through some smut (below all of the pictures is some text, look for the link about Celebrity Videos). The Paris Hilton tape and the new Cameron Diaz tape are all there. Enjoy. I apologize for the run around, but I don't have the space to host the video. Enjoy. And whatever you do, don't register your credit card or anything else. You can get her for free, just like the guy in the video.
Friday, July 09, 2004
What is it, you may ask? A link I found from the Gorilla Mask website, linking to the Cameron Diaz Sex Tape.
Yup. A link to the very legit tape of Cameron Diaz, nude naked and otherwise undressed and 20 years old.
No idea how long the links will be active, so enjoy while you can.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
I was perhaps slightly unclear. I am not at all upset with my status of "single". What set me off was the bruise on my arm. So please, stop emailing me cute stories of why it's ok to be single, and why boys suck.
I was emailed a little gem from this place that got my blood boiling.
It's all about how guys suck. I don't have the time, nor will I subject my readers to the entire post, but I will take a minute to single out a few that really got to me.
This chick writes: "Boys don't open the door for someone with breasts anymore. Even worse, the elderly no longer qualify to receive this small act of politeness. Boys will not carry your books from class to class, in a cheap, albeit sweet, effort to move upwards in your esteem.Boys will not allow you to copy the answers to that damned pop math quiz. Of course, thinking of it now, who wants to copy off of some idiot male anyway?
Boys no longer automatically opt to walk between the street and their woman protecting us from cars splashing in puddles, flying bullets and other things. Boys no longer endeavor to learn about the woman they are choosing to spend time with. It seems to me, that ages ago, when men ordered dinner for their women, that the women never got offended. Or scoffed at his incorrect choices. Instead, her palate was sure to be pleased, since said man had taken the time prior to find out what the poor girl liked to eat! Here and now, in glorious America, in the year of someone else's Lord 2004, a woman would spout of some seriously feminist objections to having a man order her meal. I say it would be one less decision I had to make.
Any elderly person, or woman, is now forced to remain standing on the bus, train, etcetera. Regardless if she is weighed down with a million odd packages and three screaming children, a man will simply sit, maintaining his comfortable seat and no doubt rolling his eyes at her tortuous predicament.
A boy will no longer be thankful that he go to hold your hand on the first date,rather he will complain to his friends that the prudish woman did not put out."
I would like to make it known that I think this chick is a complete moron. Lets start at the beginning, shall we?
1) Since when do the presence of breasts have anything to do with my ability to open a door? Although I am a fan of someone opening the door for an elderly person, or a person with their hands full (male OR female, thanks), I am not a fan of a male rushing ahead of me, damn near shoving me out of the way, and standing with the door open while I feel like I should walk faster to get there because he made the effort.
2) Walking around campus, I don't know ONE single guy who would carry my books. Why, you might ask? He's not a pig. He's not a jerk. His hands are full of his own books. The chances of you going to the same building on campus at the same time are slim, so you might as well get used to hauling your own shit, sister. You'll be doing it your whole life with that attitude.
3) Being chivalrous does not constitute being dishonest. Maybe old boy won't let you cheat cause he has a conscience. In my school, cheating is grounds for expulsion. And as cute as you might be and as perky as those tits are, it's just not worth it. Anyway, you have no room to be calling him an idiot, you are the one who needed to cheat in the first place, remember?
4) I don't give a shit if he walks between me and the street, me and the buildings, in front or behind me. It just doesn't fucking matter. If you are close enough to the curb to be splashed by cars driving through puddles, you are a twit who deserves those flying bullets Prince Charming is supposed to be shielding you from.
5) Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and men ordered dinner for their woman, the woman didn't have the option to be offended. It simply wasn't socially acceptable for women to have an opinion. The idea that it's one less thing for you to worry about worries me. Should men dress us, as well? That's one less thing to worry about. And that pesky right to vote? They should abolish that as well. Another thing I won't lose any sleep over.
6) Why should a man give up his comfy seat because a woman is stupid enough to go shopping with 3 screaming children, 17 shopping bags and no car or taxi? I agree that exceptions should be made for the elderly and the handicapped...But I don't see you moving your self rightgeous prissy ass, do I?
7) I've never found a guy who complained about not putting out on the first date. Because I have opinions, and can carry on a conversation, they want me for more than just a cum rag. Try it sometime. Take a look. Most of the girls who get the shit for not putting out on the first date are the ones with nothing to offer. Maybe getting her to put out is easier than listening to her ramble about chivalry.
This chick needs a serious reality check. If I ever met her, I think I'd punch her in the head. Until then, I'll be opening my own doors, carrying my own shit, doing my own work, walking on whatever the side of the street I feel like, ordering my own food, happily standing wherever I want, and putting out or not putting out as I see fit.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
No more updates from the Tweeker Chick.
Why, you ask?
This is why.
On May 24th, The Single Man Of my Dreams had this to say:
"The "Single" Man of your Dreams:
I love drunken posts. Sorry I wasn't there to see the tweekerchick in action. Next time take pictures (wink…wink).
P.S.- I had a dream about you last night (hehe). I will tell the juicy details later."
I have yet to hear one sordid, juicy detail. Thus, I am on strike until Mr Hottie shoots me an email or calls my phone, and whispers all those dirty little secrets to me.
So there. Blame the rabid eskimo.
Monday, July 05, 2004
What Pulp Fiction Character Are You?
"You're known for starting trouble. But you play it cool. Besides, no one can resist your sharp eyes and quick wit. *They* eat from the palm of your hand. Though you have weaknesses, which may have deadly consequences, you, are resurrected, as if the gods themselves breathed immortality into you."
Take it, and tell me how you guy's turned out.
Enjoy. Also, check out Gorilla Mask. It's got a lot of information on Tara Reid's boob job. And let me tell you, those are some monster hooters.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
You wanted all sorts of commitment. I can't commit to a brand of toothpaste. I'm sure your mother is a real nice lady, however I don't want to meet her.
The stuffed animals. One is cute. My bed now looks like I live with a 5 year old child. Why not give me something useful? I need a new coffee pot and I found a real nice blender I like.
Calling my cell phone, and then my house when I don't pick up my cell phone. If I don't pick up one, chances are I won't pick up the other. Especially if I feel like you are stalking me.
Trying to talk out our relationship at work. Not the time, or the place. I'm busy trying to care for abused/abandoned/neglected/otherwise disadvantaged children, and you are asking me about "us".
This one was the kicker. You hurt me. You left a bruise. A BRUISE motherfucker. If you want my attention, that is fine, but grabbing my arm hard enough to leave a hand print is not acceptable. I was trying to walk away to go work, that's all. Had I popped you in the mouth, it would be different. Considering I was merely walking away, leaving a bruise is not alright.
Why would you post all that on your blog, a person might ask? Simple. I want to explain where my bruises came from, why his eye is swollen shut, and why I don't ever have to worry about you even so much as looking at me crooked again.
Moving on, I found the funniest new site. Modified Living. Fraternity, Sorority and random other humor, coupled with Amish Porn? You can't beat that with a stick. Enjoy. I plan on adding it to my links as soon as I stop being a lazy bitch. (In other words, it might be awhile).
Monday, June 28, 2004
1)Ok..Your girl wants to go to a fancy dinner, but your really short on cash, what do you do?
a)Call all your friends and beg them for money, hey they should give in, right?
b)Tell your girl you could do that next week and instead cook dinner at home and watch a movie with her
c)Tell her you don't have the cash and take her to Mickey D's instead
d)Tell her you wouldn't take her to a fancy dinner weather you had money or not
Correct Answer: Tell her to enjoy herself, and to call you when she gets back, and ask her where she got the money to take herself out like that, because you know its goddamn expensive and that's why you're broke.
2)Your girl invites you too her parents house (classic right) and you had plans with your friends the same night, what would you do?
a)Tell her that your brother was stopping by later, and hope that she believes it
b)Tell your friends about your girl and her parents. If they were your REAL friends they would understand
c)Go out with your friends, but stop by at her parents house after the party got started
d)Tell her that you don't like her parents at all and go out with your friends anyways.
Correct Answer: Stop by her parents house. Her mom might be a MILF, and missing out on that is simply unacceptable. If mom is ugly, fake the stomach flu and go master your kegstand with the boys.
3)It is your girl's birthday, and she wants something nice, this is your first time shopping for her, and she didn't tell you what she wants..What do you get her?
a)A teddy bear, she couldn't refuse!!
b)Run out and just get her a card, then you could maybe put a twent in the card or something
c)Don't get her anything, and explain to her that you didn't know
d)Look though her room and find her ring size, then go out and buy her the best gold ring you can buy (and afford)
Correct Answer: Buy her a keg of beer, a few video games and some movies involving a lot of explosions with very little plot. Most likely (unless she's me), she'll hate it and give you a fucking idea next time, and you will be ahead a few video games, some beer and a movie or two.
4)Your girl really wants to see a movie, but when you get there you can't decide which one you want (she is a comedy and lets say your an action, and no movie there is a combo of the two)?
a)Just go with her choice...Sit back, buy a big bucket of popcorn, and try to act like your enjoying it
b)Put up a fight!! You have a right to see YOUR movie!
c)Just let her go to her movie, alone. You'll walk around or take a drive somewhere
d)Flip a coin, hey that SHOULD be fair, right?
Correct Answer: If this is the same bitch we were talking about before, tell the bitch she has no choice. Apparently, you're paying for everything anyway, the last thing you should have to suffer through is another estrogen fest. Tell the bitch that you are seeing aliens of Doom XXVII, and that's that. Now go get me some popcorn.
5)Its your class reunion, and on the invite it says you could bring family/friends. You think about taking your girl, but then you remember the hottie you met way back when. What do you do?
a)Don't take anyone, if your lucky, that ol' hottie will like you back,
b)Take your girl but have her sit in the back while you try to socialize.
c)Take your girl, but then have her leave early so you still have time to find the old girl of your dreams
d)Take her and totally ingore that old flame!!
Correct Answer: Take her. While there, get her sloshed and introduce her to the hottie. With everything you've bought this chick, the least she owes you is some girl on girl action with a cutie. Bring a camera.
5)Your girl just got a brand new job, one that she's real proud of..what do you do to celebrate?
a)Not do anything, like they say, don't have too much of a good thing
b)Throw a small party with just you and her.
c)Get a HUGE surprise party for her when she comes home, she totally deserves it!!
d)Have her take YOU out, hey, she's the one with the new job!!
Correct Answer: Quit your job and let her support you for awhile. After all the shit you've bought her during this quiz, you deserve a break.
Apparently, I wouldn't make a good boyfriend. But I have been told due to my answers, I might be the perfect girlfriend.
Send me a bottle. I hope it'll remind me of the long nights of drunk, stoned sex.
Speaking of sex...Edy's Dreamery Ice Cream is better than sex. Their Tiramisu, Deep Dish Apple Pie and Black Raspberry Avalanche flavors have made me forget entirely about sex. Ok. Well they atleast distracted me for awhile. Seriously though, the shit is fucking awesome. It is now my goal to try every flavor. And if somehow, I can manage to combine the eating of this icecream with some good sex, I'd be one happy bitch.
Speaking of sex...(Yes. I know I just used this segway. But it's a good one, don't you think?) I just acquired three CDs, that amazingly, would make excellent CD's to bump uglies to. Aerosmith "Honkin On Bobo", Jet "Get Born", and The Spiderman 2 Soundtrack (No, I'm not kidding) are all excellent for getting naked and gettin laid. Throw in a White Zombie CD and Godsmack's "The Other Side" and Happy Humping, folks.
Throw in icecream, and I might show up.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Shock. Gasp. Why, it can't be! Cause she hasn't LOOKED it, or anything. I've considered the same, seeing as my ass is growing to massive proportions every time I look at a morsel of food.
Before I forget, pick up a copy of Honkin On Bobo, by Aerosmith. It's the good, old school bluesy Aerosmith that people who hopped on the train BEFORE songs like "Crazy" came out, will love.
Sorry such a short, boring post. I have to go do some Pilates before I turn into one big walking mountain of fat.
On that note, I'll leave my female readers with this. The Hottest Male Bachelors. Just don't get any ideas...they all love me.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
So far, here's what I have for y'all.
The Tweeker Chicks Movie Reviews
The Chronicles of Riddick
Honestly, I am the wrong person to judge a Vin diesel flick. I could pay $8.50 to sit there and watch him pick his nose, and leave giving it rave reviews simply because I'd give my left arm to sleep with him. That being said, I love this movie. It is the sequel to Pitch Black, which is a definite must watch if you want to see this movie and have the slightest idea what the fuck is going on. My biggest complaint are the battle scenes. Let's face it, Vin Diesel, although my future husband, is not exactly a Shakespearian actor. But when it comes to physical challenges, he has the market. Which is why the lighting and camera angles in the fight scenes baffle me. Vin runs around with Alexa Davalos, kicking the shit out of people, and you are lucky to get a good peek at those sexy arms. That being said, the plot needs some work, but I left the theatre horny as hell from watching Vin Diesel run around killing people. I give it a A-.
I didn't want to see this movie at first, seeing as I was on the date from hell, but honestly, it made my night. I laughed my ass off. The only down side was the theatre full of children. But if you can handle that or hit a late show, see it. It's hilarious. I give it an A.
Being a huge Tom Hanks fan didn't save me from thinking that this movie sucked. It had a lot of potential, what with Tom Hanks and a bunch of cute foreign people...But fell flat on it's face. There wasn't enough time for the relationship between the two characters to be even remotely believable, the plot was sketchy and after awhile I just wanted to run out of the theatre. The only thing this movie had was product placement. A hell of a lot of product placement. Krispy Kreme, Hugo Boss, Borders, Burger King, Sbarro, Starbucks, Sam Goody and Swatch are just a few of the places forced upon the viewer. It was a 2 hour commercial with a few cute moments. I give it a C-.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
I hate Harry Potter. With a passion. This is not news. But I hate to admit it, the movie was super cute. It was actually entertaining. However, I am now the worst person alive, because the entire movie all I was thinking was "God damn, Harry Potter is gonna be a fucking hottie when he turns 18". When does he turn 18? Anyone? Oh yea, I give it a B.
Typical teenage girl shit. Same type of deal as Clueless except without the amusing voiceovers. Some of the scenes are funny, but a blind retarded monkey could see where the plot was going. I give it a B, but only because it kept the girls at work quiet for more than an hour.
Saved is by far the funniest movie I've seen in a long damn time. Not only did Macaulay Culkin grow up and actually get kinda cute, the movie was hysterical. Nothing like poking fun at overly religious people to brighten my day. It even answered the age old question of "What's the only reason a Christian girl comes downtown to the Planned Parenthood clinic?". The obvious answer being "Plant a pipe bomb?" Sadly, the movie got a little bit typical-teen-movie-ish at the end, but all in all it is still hilarious. Any movie where Mandy Moore chucks a bible at someone, runs her handicapped van into a large statue of Jesus, and tries to kidnap someone and perform an exorcism in a van gets an A+ from me.
So to make a long post short, go see Vin half nakie, giggle at Saved, brave the crowds for Shrek and make sure your stoned if you see The Terminal, it's a better way to pass the time.
I'm off, happy birthday to Deanne, who's 21 tomorrow! YAY. May there be many beer bongs and naked men in your future (especially if I'm gonna be there).
Friday, June 18, 2004
Anyway. Don't say I never do anything for you folks. I slaved away at my keyboard today, searching high and low across the internet for the Gena Lee Nolin sex tape. And alas, I have found it. Where I normally find things that I need, want, or make me horny. You guessed it. GorillaMask.Net.
What a shocker. I owe this guy, simply for being that much cooler than me. When you're done hitting the GorillaMask site, the link to the tape is on your right.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
It's information everyone needs to know.
Enjoy. I'm off to work another 64 hour week, I'll update if I ever have any time.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Since I'm too lazy to give you a real post, I'll give you an Old School Timekiller-esque post.
Number of themeparks I've visited in the last week of work: 4
Best CD to lay by the beach and listen to: Commitment, by Lucky Boys Confusion. Songs about Jane by Maroon 5 is a close second.
Number of rumors that I'm getting promoted: 7
Number of times I've ruined that by calling my supervisor a sweat-pant wearing nappy haired bitch: 1
Song stuck in my head: Dammit by Blink 182
Bottles of Vodka consumed with ex boyfriends since summer vacation began: 2 1/2.
Number of family members I've "killed off" so I can get a day off work: 1 (But it's technically not lying, she did die. It just happened that it was about 6 years ago).
Number of cruises my sister got to take with her boyfriend: 2.
Number of cruises I've gotten to take, period: 0. (someone needs to fix this.)
Number of waterpark slides I've gone down: Roughly 2 million.
Number of waterpark slides I've gone down with a wedgie, thus baring my big white ass to the entire park: About 700.
Number of kids I had to save from drowning: 3.
Number of kids I wanted to save from drowning: 2.
Number of days spent so sunburnt I couldn't wear a bra: 15.
God I love summer vacation. If only I could add a tally of "number of drunken nights with Chris".
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Check out these clips from the Oprah show, which airs at 4 PM with all sorts of after school programming.
Oprah: Lets talk about that secret language Michelle.
Oprah: I didn't know any of this
Michelle: I have yea, I have gotten a whole new vocabulary let me tell ya
Oprah: I did not know any of this
Michelle: Salad tossing, cucumbers, lettuce tomatoes ok
Oprah: ok so so what is a salad toss?
Michelle: ok a tossed salad is, get ready hold on to your underwear for this one, oral anal sex, so oral sex with the anus is what that would be.
Michelle: A rainbow party is an oral sex party. It's a gathering where oral sex is performed and rainbow comes from all of the girls put on lipstick and each one puts her mouth around the penis of the gentleman or gentlemen who are there to receive favors and makes a mark um in a different place on the penis hence the term rainbow.
Now look at this clip from the Howard Stern show, which airs late at night.
HS: Howard Stern
RQ: Robin Quivers
MV: Male Cast Member
HS: Yeah, but nobody knows what it is. A blumpkin I can explain it cleanly.
RQ: There's nothing clean about a blumpkin.
HS: Well, a blumpkin is receiving oral sex while you're sitting on a toilet bowl if you are a man. You're sitting on a toilet bowl and uh, while you're evacuating you receive your oral.
HS: And uh, then, what did I say yesterday too you didn't understand? Balloon knot?
RQ: Yes, I don't know what that is. Somebody said to me "is that the funniest thing ever?" and I was like "what is that?"
HS: A balloon knot
RQ: I didn't want to show my ignorance, I laughed too.
HS: A balloon knot I'm gonna post these on a web site
RQ: Yeah, we need a dictionary for this show.
HS: A balloon knot is when you bend over and I can see up right up your old
RQ: Up the wazoo?
HS: Up the wazoo and uh, you know that's a balloon knot that you see. That's called a "balloon knot."
RQ: Really, I did not know that.
HS: Think about it, it looks like a balloon knot.
RQ: I don't know. Oh you know what
HS: Tie up a balloon.
RQ: I'm just thinking of a balloon knot
MV: It all makes sense, Robin, come on.
HS: And uh, what else did I say? "Nasty Sanchez," you didn't know what that was.
RQ: Oh, I don't even want to know half the time what these things are
HS: That I'd have to post on the internet.
RQ: 'Cause there've been a number of terms used lately. Would you do 'cause KC's always blurtin' them out.
HS: "Strawberry shortcake"
RQ: "Strawberry shortcake" I've never heard of. "Dirty Sanchez"
HS: "Nasty Sanchez."
RQ: What is the others KC?
MV: I heard a new one the other day. It was the "David Copperfield."
HS: That's right.
MV: Okay, do you want to explain it, since I... When you're goin' like a dog
MV: and you're about to finish and instead you don't finish, you spit on her and then you turn around and when she turns her face around then you go So it's kind of like an illusion
MV: to David Copperfield.
RQ: Sleight of hand.
MV: Classic misdirection.
HS: You trick her. There's a million of them, but uh, I'll post them on the web.
RQ: Yes, because people need to know. These aren't in the regular dictionary.
Now what the fuck? And Howard gets blamed while Oprah sits around on her empire? Yea. That's what I thought.
I say fire them all and let me take over. I can show those mother fuckers what obscene really is.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Then I started thinking.
I'd give my left boob for money, the ability to drive a fancy car and eat food made by someone with a French name I can't pronounce. I'd love to be able to fly on a private jet and rake in 6 figures a year. But buying anything that makes me happy?
I'm not sure about that. Can you really buy drinking beer after beer at a Lucky Boys Confusion concert with 2 of your best friends? What about drinking hot chocolate with those little marshmallows on an overcast day, day dreaming out the window from your loft? Or driving around in the summer with the windows down and the music up?
I'm not sure I could be that girl. The girl who spends hours at the gym making sure the crepes suzette I ate the night before aren't sticking to my thighs. Worrying about what someone's clients will think if I'm not perfectly primped, prodded, made up and propped up in the latest designer clothes. I'm not sure I can handle getting my nails done all the time, and I'm not sure I like the idea of having to dress to impress all the time.
This is not to say I'm a slob, this is just to say that I want to be with someone like Shawn, Chris, or the rest of the guys. That's what makes me happy. I'm not sure you can buy the comfort that stems from being with someone who doesn't give a crap if you gained 10 pounds, wear sweatpants around the house, and don't always wear makeup. What makes me happy is having someone to watch The Simpsons, drink cheap beer and eat pizza with. Don't get me wrong, I still want the Lexus's, fancy hotels, and shitloads of money...but I always figured that would come when the rest gets figured out.
Until then, I'll be chillin on my futon in sweats, drinkin beer, and eating pizza.
Monday, May 31, 2004
Because my parents are visiting in about a half an hour, I was speed cleaning and I found an old sales receipt from Walmart, and the one from yesterday.
Here's how they stack up:
1 Hair Dye in an Unnatural color
1 Spiderman action figure
1 Bag Cooler Ranch Doritos
2 Gallons of Orange Juice (for drinking and tripping purposes)
1 Bottle advil
2 Packs of Gum
1 Package of Twizzlers
4 Packages of Zours
1 Box of Condoms
8 Cans of whipped cream (Hooray for whippits!)
2 Packs of Marlboro Reds
If I remember right, that night was a hell of a lot of fun. We were wandering around the isles when I stopped and looked down. After staring at me a moment, Shawn looked down, breathed in and said "Holy shit Clare, we are getting old".
Our cart contained:
2 Bottles of Old Spice body wash (buy one get one free)
1 Package Lightbulbs
1 Tube of Toothpaste
1 Bar of Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate (which I would've hated as a kid)
1 Package of Charmin
1 Bottle Wiper Fluid
2 Bottles of Windex
3 Lean Cuisine Pizzas
2 Cases of Diet Coke
1 Can Bug Spray
3 Cookie Sheets
I don't know when this happened, but can I please go back to the time in my life where trips to walmart consisted of me buying worthless Toys, games and CDs? I want to be 18 forever, is that so much to ask?
Monday, May 24, 2004
And give you all my formula for the antihangover:
Water. About 5-6 glasses. You get hungover due to deyhdration.
Vitamins. Take one multivitmain before bed, alcohol robs your body of important stuff.
Advil- for everything the former didnt deal with.
Heh. I promise. Works every time.
Ok. I go pass out and trry not to barf.
Friday, May 21, 2004
I'm just chillin, at school (yes, they let me into an institution of learning), and waiting until I finally get off of work.
So check out LBC and drink a beer for me, guys.
See, now if you sent me money like you are supposed to, I wouldn't have to work a bazillion hours a week.
I might need one of these by the time this is all over.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
I saw you pull up in your brand new Lexus (the temporary plates were a dead give away). I was the girl who pulled in beside you that you ignored. Fine. We wound up in line together. Don't think I didn't notice the Manolo Blahniks shoes, the Versace coat and the Loius Vuitton purse (from the pastel collection, even). I was the one with the same pair of Armani glasses on.
I was also the one who watched you put down 2 Red Bull energy drinks, and bitch out the cashier because they were supposedly 70 cents off. They weren't.
Yup. That's me. I was the cute little college chick in the middle of finals, who just ran out of caffeine and refined sugar. I was the one with the blue jelly bracelets up my arm, and the pissed off look on her face.
I was the one who watched you bitch at a cashier over $1.40 when your purse costs more than I make in a month. I was also the one who slammed that $1.40 down on the counter and told you to shut the fuck up.
Yup. That was me.
Here's my suggestion. You need a hobby. Apparently, you don't have enough things to do with your twelve billion dollars than torment the poor cashier at Walgreens. It was A DOLLAR FORTY. I make $6.11 an hour and even I realize, this is not a big deal.
I need you to find something more creative to do with your money.
If you can't, I need you to give it to me.
Because honestly, you kinda make me want to vomit.
Please keep your Chanel No.5 wearing, Louis Vuitton purse carrying, bleach blonde, nipped, tucked, and botox injected self the fuck out of my way.
Because like everyone else in that line today, I hate you.
Thanks for your cooperation,
The Tweeker Chick.
Up To Code, the opening band for LBC, kicked major fucking ass.
Sadly, I don't know a lot about them.
I do know they rocked the house, and they are all pretty good looking.
And any lead singer who knows the words to all the Lucky Boys songs like I do, and is ok with singing and dancing to them next to me, is ok in my book.