the Shakedown: slang. "a thorough search of a place or person." (dictionary.com)

My neck, my back, lick my pussy and my crack! (holy crap, that's funny)

Friday, Sept. 05, 2003 at 2:22 pm

I have a confession to make. I fucking love this song. Yes, I am ghetto fabulous. I rap along to this song with my most impressive ghetto twang. I'm telling you, this combined with my dream about being a fine black women, I'm seriously thinking my soul was born into the wrong body.

Oh and here's the latest installment of instant messenger conversation between me and the C.W.O.M.J. (co-worker who's on my jock). This was just too funny to keep to myself.

him: Well.... What are you going to do about it?
me: have sex hopefully soon
him: I suppose you have a prospect already!!!
me: a few
him: Must be nice! It's so much easier for a woman to get laid
me: maybe you just don't try hard enough... or your standards are too high
him: Well, my standards are she shouldn't stink and she should move
me: hahahahahahahahaha
him: and she should probably be at least 18 years old
him: and less than 65

me: haha

My work days are just getting way too productive.



They're just so preeeeeetty. . . and then they have to open their cakeholes

Friday, Sept. 05, 2003 at 12:30 pm

It always saddens me when celebrities open their mouths. Because I want to like some of these people, I really do, but they just make it so fucking difficult to do when they speak. I mean, seriously, how do these people become rich and famous, when everytime they open their mouths they sound like they've had a brain transplant from a cow?

But the real issue here is not how moronic celebrities are. The real issue is, when the heck did Johnny Depp become 40 friggin' years old? I still remember lusting after his hot ass on 21 Jump Street. Where does the time go?

Whatever, I'd still do him.



I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!

Thursday, Sept. 04, 2003 at 3:59 pm

People, I'm telling you, that "daily affirmations" crap actually works. I swear.

Whenever I tell myself I'm a hot bitch, men flock to me. And whenever I tell myself I'm the funniest person in the universe, people laugh at me. And whenever I tell myself I'm witty and smart, I pull big words and funny antics out of my ass that I've never even heard of before. And whenever I tell myself I'm a pathetic loser, everyone craps in my mouth.

So, I'm telling you, that shit works. I swear.

Now I just need to tell myself that my boobs are not getting saggy and the stretch marks will disappear completely.



A short rant about little bitches

Thursday, Sept. 04, 2003 at 11:25 am

People who use passive aggressive techniques and guilt trips deserve to have the shit beaten out of them. Fucking grow the fuck up.



Finally, a popup ad with a little honesty!

Thursday, Sept. 04, 2003 at 10:33 am



How I like to stick office supplies in various orifices

Wednesday, Sept. 03, 2003 at 4:37 pm

I've really only been in one serious relationship. That lasted about two and a half years. We were engaged. I thought he was my soul mate. I thought we were going to be together forever. Cliche much? I broke it off because I was scared. Plain and simple, I was a coward. His name was Steve and he had an unforgettable laugh, very hardy and genuine. I think the unforgettable part also has something to do with the fact that there's a new guy in our office who laughs exactly like Steve did. Whenever I hear him laughing, I want to stab myself in the ear with my letter opener.

Gee, nothing like a daily reminder of what a noncommittal loser I am.



I'm a sick mofo, but that's why the boys love me!

Wednesday, Sept. 03, 2003 at 3:43 pm

I love to talk shit. The following is a paid advertisement by the antics of Angela the queen bullshitter. In other words, an excerpt of an instant message conversation between me and a co-worker who is on my jock. That's right, I said co-worker. And jock.

him: I'm still thinking about that cream cheese.... hhhmmmm (he had previously been telling me how he wants to lick cream cheese and pineapple off my naked body)
me: man, do men ever think about anything besides vaginas!!!!??????
him: What's cream cheese got to do with vaginas?
him: I can't think of the last time I thought of a vagina!!! I NEVER use that word!!!
me: I know, that's what's so funny... but that's what it all boils down to
him: Of course it is. But vagina sounds so... what... medical??? Technical???
me: yeah
him: Ok, since you don't want to talk about vaginas, what would you like to talk about my dear?
me: buttholes!!!!!
him: Ok, what's on your mind about buttholes?
me: they stink
him: I'll bet your butthole doesn't stink....
me: I beg to differ
him: Now, how on earth are you going to prove that it does?
me: send you a sample?



Yes, I'm an immoral heathen, but that's not the point!

Wednesday, Sept. 03, 2003 at 2:00 pm

I will admit several things right off the bat, before I go into my little rant that will probably have everyone and their dog arguing with me because you people are all sick fucking perverts! Like me. But keep in mind, the only reason for the following soul purging is only to prove to you that I am by no means perfect, nor do I consider myself so. I'm not casting judgement here, I'm simply trying to get to the facts. That being said, my confessions are as follows:

I have cheated on boyfriends.

I have slept with a married man.

I have gone to see male strippers.

I have gone to see female strippers.

I look at porn.

Obviously, I am not exactly the picture perfect of sexual correctness, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. But I saw a movie this weekend, that got me to thinking about an issue that just won't shut the hell up inside my brain. It's an issue I've thought about many, many times before, so it's not exactly new, but it was revived by said movie.

That movie was Women vs. Men. The title alone, of course, made me want to rent it. Then the fact that Paul Reiser is in it and I want to hump his brains out. But anyway, in the movie, two men (including Paul), who are both married, go to a strip club after one of the guys has a fight with his wife. It shows the guys getting lap dances from the strippers.

Now I've seen lap dances before, I know what they are about. But holy fucking shit, the only thing that is stopping sexual intercourse is one or two thin layers of clothing! They might as well be fucking!!

So this begs the question in my mind: How is this NOT cheating? Which is what men argue ALL THE TIME - that it is not cheating. How is a married man having some strange woman rubbing her naked tits in his face and her bare ass on his crotch NOT cheating?

Because that's what strip clubs are about, you say? Because he's paying her to simulate sex? FUCK ME! that makes it worse! That makes him a pig and her a whore! So he paid her and she's "doing her job." So what? The fact remains that there's a naked woman dry humping the man! If it were any other random woman not getting paid to do it, it would be considered cheating. Would it not?

If you caught you wife or girlfriend at a bar sitting on some guys lap, grinding away, her tits shoved in his face, fully clothed, are you telling me that you would not consider that cheating? Vice versa for the ladies? I want to know. I seriously want to know. And don't tell me it's different for strip clubs, because it fucking is not!

And just as an end note here, I'm only referring to married people and people in committed relationships. All of the above behavior is perfectly acceptable if you are single. At least in my book. Speaking of which, I could really use a lap dance right about now.



I fucking hate country music!

Tuesday, Sept. 02, 2003 at 6:48 pm

I finally discovered what kind of drunk I am.

I am the kind of drunk who never thinks they are really drunk. Good thing I have friends who have a tighter grip on reality than I do. Also, I become Super Woman. I think I can kick anyone's ass, although I'm much more likely to psycho-analyze the situation to death in my drunken stupor than actually get physical.

Other than one brief moment of inebriation the past four days I�ve been off work, I�ve just been sleeping, masturbating, and talking shit. In case you cared. Back to the grind tomorrow. assshitfuckballscock. Oh and don't you just love how the title has absolutely nothing to do with the post? I'm cool like that.



"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." C.S. Lewis