I've read two KICK ASS books in the last coupla weeks. 10 In Hanuman's Hands, Cheeni Rao. OMFG, thiss book is THE SHIT. Read it. If you struggle with all things "bad", feel like a miserable failure most of the time, have fucked up brain chemistry, regret your existence whilst simultaneously entertaining fits of narcissism that would make [insert narcissist here] blush, then you need to read this shizzle, yo. Sorry I can't relate that all to you in perfect english, but yo - that's how I roll. And you know that, and that's why you read my shit, and why, when I'm posthumously accepting my mothertrucking academy award for Best ScreenPlay EVAR (courtesy of Kneerim & Williams, the folks I wicked love), you will know my name is THE LORD....
/sorry - went all Samuel L. Jackson up in here for a 'mo.
anyway....(yeah, I am not particularly in love with my ADD either - welcome to my Disney World - if the septic system failed - type 0f reality).
/mamas & papas - monday, monday, delightfully caressing my ears. particularly my left one....I digress. What else is new?
Book, the second: AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS "Dry"... Holy shit. It took me a FULL ON 12 hours to recover from THIS one. Yeah, I know, you're like "er, secretarial chick, WTF could you know?". Yeah. Keep dreaming about that as this rusted out hull of a cerebellar auditorium SMOKES YOUR ASS SO BAD(ly) at Jeoapardy. Or however the fuck you spell it. WTF.
Anyway. Augusten. OMG. That book. Gripped the living shit out of my soul. In that Gore Vidal way. And that's some serious shit right there. Mad props, Mr. Vidal - I hope you're well.
Welp..that was gonna be it, but now I've cranked the Pink and I like the Pink. What's more important though, is that that the hubs likes the Pink. And it's not often that he expresses an affinity...for much of anything. Not that he's farty and boh-ring, au contraire. He just isn't THAT guy - you know, the one you can jangle some reality show bullshit in front of and entertain. He's fuckin awesome, truth be told. I dig the SHIT out of him. (Now I'm editing a snide comment to someone from the distant past, but I still think "ha ha! charlie and the chocolate factory, biatchhhhhh!!!"
thanks for joining me on my md excursion to Inability to Complete A Thought syndrome - or, ICAT for short. Whattup, SHAWTY!
I have a couple of new FB pals that came into the fold purely through a) chance b) happenstance. Just wanna shout out to my new peeps. Cuz you all care like that, n shiat. LOLZ. Yeah, I know. You stopped reading after paragraph II. That's cool So did I....
/i can go for miles, if you know what I mean
shit. sorry - the whole point of the exercise was for me to tell you that Mama Cass's voice is like the most delicious, warm, buttery, carmelized yumminess EVAR. RAWK ON, Ellen Cohen!!!!
let's throw some mad love in there for Pattsy Cline too, while we're at it. Because sometimes we all walk for miles, along the highway...n shiat.
WERD
p.s. shouts to e-dawg and bar-b-licious, YOU MY HOMEYS.
