My Greeal? Are you for real?

(Original Post: February 2, 2006 - Thursday)

I'm listening to a new song by Nelly. It says, smile for me daddy, I want to see your greeal. Not Grill. It's not pronounced like that. In true Nelly fashion he has taken a word we would normally pronounce correctly and fucked it all up. And if that wasn't bad enough he has made a whole song about looking at someone's teeth. And in the video, by the way, he has a whole mouth full of 'bling' if you will.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of great teeth. Like Dane said, nothing is more of a turn off than bad teeth. If I snag my Christmas sweater on your corn tooth, we indeed have a problem. But trust me, the less gold, white gold, platinum, sterling silver or black hills gold you have in your hole, the better. I do not want your mouth to be worth more than my house.
And now I'm listening to Ashley talking about L-O, L-O, L-O, L-O-V-E. That's what she's talkin' bout. Jeezus. She's at a house party. Everyone is drunk and jumping on the bed. She's dancing with a cane. She is also spinning her head around like a price is right wheel. These are classic signs of true love. And just so you know, you will for sure find love at a house party full of people you already fucking know and have probably already slept with. So yeah, good luck with that.
Trust me. I have been to Baja's on quarter beer night. Love does not live there. Then again, love doesn't live where I work either. And it doesn't live next door to me. It isn't at any eating establishment I've ever been to and it does not live in this computer. So where do you meet those people you love?
It seems like the only person I truly love without condition in this life is My daughter. And that's pretty much a given anyway because you've really gotta be in love with someone to let their entire body pass through your vagina. Especially the shoulder. That shoulder part is a bitch.
Thanks Nelly, for inspiring a birth blog. Nice.

God lives in Apple Valley

(Original Post: January 8, 2006 - Sunday)

So there we were at Olive Garden. Me, Chris (My best bud since high school) Jack (A guy totally in love with my best bud since high school) and Brandon (Jacks best bud since high school and the guy my best bud since high school totally likes.) Do you got that? Good.
Anyway, Jack said, "I used to hang out with Brandon's brother, but he found God, so we don't hang out anymore." I said, "Where was he?" Jack very matter-of-factly said, "In Apple Valley. To which Brandon replied, "Well, my brother followed him to Texas." I said, "Oh, so he's on tour." We laugh a bit, and then Jack says, "Oh, were you talking about God?" Then he begins to laugh so hard he cries and ice tea squirts out of his nose. This is just one reason Christy would rather date his best bud since high school.
I went to the DMV to get my license renewed. The line was out the door and of course everyone is asking the same question. What is this line for? I'm just here to get a new license, do I really have to wait in this line? Yes Mother F'r. You wait in this freakin line just to get a number for the other freakin line. My number was G-66. And now serving G-29. Someone please just punch me in the face. Meanwhile there is a continuous screen scroll to let us know there is no waiting in every single other DMV in the entire state of California. So you know what I'm thinking ... why don't these assholes go to another DMV? And you know what they are thinking ... why don't these assholes go to another DMV. Whatever. I got my license, and a new photo ... I'll find out in two weeks if the new photos was worth the wait.
California was great. Great weather. Chris has a new mustang convertable, so you know we looked like stuck up bitches, which is always good. Specially in California where people do not even need a reason to shoot your face off. Traffic sucked ass, but my father let me borrow his SUV with his business advertisements all over every window so that was a big plus. It made it impossible for me to get any type of positive attention whatsoever, so ... bonus.
For the most part I managed to spend time with just about everyone. If you are ever in Cali, get a massage from my friend Shell. She's amazing. And get a refinance loan from my friend Hank. He'll fuck you big time. I'm kidding. Seriously, I'm serious. Ha, I'm kidding, but seriously.
I wrote a new song. I'm in love with it. My songs are mine. They are little pieces of me to leave as a legacy when I'm gone. One verse goes like this ... You keep me sated when I come to visit, you keep me baited when I'm far away, you've got me slated for two weeks in winter time, and another two weeks around may. You say that I'm holding strong at second place, and in the first place spot there's an empty space, because nothing can get that close you see, so I'm as close to first as second can be.
I just get so proud when I finish a song. It's like sex with a man except that after I finish a song I really do cum. I don't even have to fake it. Saturday Night Live is on, so I really should be going. Chances are it won't be funny, so possibly there is a Law and Order on somewhere. If there is, I will find it. Because I love Law and I love Order, and when the two come together, well, most of you know the rest.
P.S. If God comes to your town, make sure you get your tickets early. That show will sell out with a quickness, for sure.