This sign here says it all. Maybe I could talk the King Elk of the Elks into marriage if it were put just this way on the invitations. Of course, since I am going to be departed from my plumbing soon, there will be no shotgun wedding for me. I mean, unless I just get a shotgun, point it at the nearest drunk Elk and either he'll put a ring on my finger or I can put his head on the wall. When is Elk season? I want to make sure I have a permit. I figure, as marriage goes, I could either take it or leave it. I don't really even want to get married anyway. I just want him to want to get married so I can waffle around about it and leave him wiggling on the hook for a change. I'd like to know how to be that one lucky bitch that all the guys want but treat with respect. I'm more like the bitch that does laundry and gives blow jobs (or would but they are apparently unwanted at this time) and puts up with constant absence and relatively no affection and certainly no sex. And no talking. And no help except a little financial help which would probably be less than child support were it ordered. ????? And you know what my Jerry Springerish answer to all that is? I do love him. I think he loves me and is just stupid and emotionally unavailable. And addicted to the Elks Lodge. But I like the new van that the doors open and shut with a remote. It doesn't kill my shoulders and wrists. He's not physically mean, and he is sweet to the girls and is sweet to the baby in the minute amount of time that he is here. So for now he gets to stay. I guess. At least until Elk season.
13 comments:
wellIwanttogetmarriedandIalsowantbeerandashotgunbutIcantreadthispostbecauseallthewordsruntogetheranditstoohardformeIjustwanttoknowwhyyouaresosetonhavingitbesolongandhardtoreadwhenitisobvioustoeveryonehowchallengedIamwithstuffallbleedingtogetherIreallywishIcouldfigurethisalloutbecauseIneedsomebeerandIdon'thaveaweddinggownorabridesowhat'supwiththatandIwishIknewwhattheheckyouweresayingandIwishitwaseasytoreadsoIguessIjustdon'tknowwhatIcandoaboutitprobablynothing
I think a shot gun wedding would have been much better than this. Did you really feel it was important to do this to me, honey? I really was... am going to marry you. I promise. And you won't even have to shave your beaver hide either.
You are a pathetic looser. That's what you are. And you deserve everything you get. And you really should have left that anal lube alone, and you should have left my sister Sally alone too.
We shouldn't fear a world that is more interacted.
I think -- tide turning -- see, as I remember -- I was raised in the desert, but tides kind of -- it's easy to see a tide turn -- did I say those words?
By the way, I was talking to the Elk King, not you, Gretchen. Him. That bad boy in the bathtub.
We didn't need a shotgun to get our little Maureen married off. But we sure did drink a lot of beer.
I will never have sex. I am a pure white virgin.
Ah.. but I love you so much, you pure white virgin you.. I want you and I love you.. and I want to suck on you.. and mow your lawn.. and read your map.. mon amie.. I am mooning over you...
I'm happy.. just happy.. happy happy happy. I love beer. And weddings. And I'm happy.
Can people see into your house if it's darker in your house than it is outside? When I look around at other houses that don't have lights on, I see darkness, a reflection or only what is immediately in front of the window (curtains, plants, etc.) As a result, I tend to act as though no one can see what I'm doing inside as long as the lights are off and there is no other source of light illuminating me. My wife, however, is often appalled by this behavior. Should she be appalled, or am I correct?
Maybe you ought to tell them what you are doing when you are walking around like that... and then see if she thinks I should be appalled or not!
My uncle works in the Er, and he said that today an old lady came in complaining that she had a vine growing out of her "virginny". And when the doctor examined her, she did have a vine - 6 inches long - growing out of her vagina.
My uncle said that it was attached to a potato that she had put up in there to hold her uterus in because it was falling out. And then she forgot about it.
What do you think of that? He said the potato looked pretty creepy and wierd, and so did the old lady.
I like your blog by the way.. wacked out and crazy, like my life.
Post a Comment