Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Why Masturbate When You Can Listen To Jose Feliciano?

Helloooooo possums!

Happy hump day fuckers!  Hope you're not suffering from mid-week blues too tuff.  Lord knows I was on the verge. The full moon has most of us off our square.  Last night after a calamity of thoughts (including Nair for the boobs--see previous blog posting), I had a mini melt down over---well my entire existence. I cried, I knashed, wept, lamented and wailed. Why lord didn't I have multi- grain toast for my beautiful goat cheese that I purchased before my account went red? Why lord, don't I have anymore wine from Paso Robles on my wet bar? Why lord have I run out of brown sugar scrub? Why lord did you let me break my bottle of expensive perfume?  I haven't had a facial since January lord, and none of my friends will look me in the eye! And my pedicure has failed! My feet are dry, and my toes are nails are cracked egg shells---I have run away slave feet!  This unemployment is killing me! Why lord, why!!!!

Then I realized that it was all silly.  Why was I bugging out?  What exactly was I fighting against? Everybody knows that your arms is too short to box with God.

So I made a pot of popped corn and poured Jameson into the tumbler. Got my I-Tunes playlist and cranked the sound. Bjork, Blackstar, Al B. Sure and Atlantic Starr sang me torch songs, that made me lay my burdens down. I ran a hot bath and squirted the dish detergent into the water like the statue of the little boy peeing.  Bubbles were everywhere. Within moments, I felt like a new woman.

I started thinking about this book I've been reading.  "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho.  Its a wonderful read that I highly recommend. I won't give away any goodies, but it's a book about a shepard and his journey....he basically sets out to obtain what may seem like an impossible task to most muggles.  Being a wizard myself, I could identify with the main character. But damnit if my wand don't zap out on me in the middle of working my "magic."

You've heard me complain of my writers block before, and the shit is real.  You've heard me complain about my stalled acting career. That shit is really real. But so is my faith.  So by the hammer of thor, I will not give up on what I'm here to do (in this lifetime anyway).

This morning I received lovely emails from my female readers regarding the last post.  They all seemed relieved to know they were not alone in their hormonal freak show bodies.  So if all else fails, I know that I am here to amuse the 12 people reading this blog. So cheers to you friends.

ciao for now,


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