My Waste of Space

How could I have forgotten my dear friend Kris's birthday??

That's easy --  same damn way I forget everyone else's!

Muahs, Krispy... I hope you're out enjoying yourself with Louie as I type this!

xoxo!

P.S.  Due to my respect of others' privacy, I will not post an image of the b-day email you got from the Stop Pissing in Your Pants company...

phlskygirl at 1:05:02 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 4 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

I've been here for a week or so now.  Actually, I think it's longer, but as I'm not working, I've lost all track of time.  I've been making Antonio do all the driving.  We seem to live near pretty much everything I need (Target, TJ Maxx, Albertson's, etc.), and it all seems pretty cut and dried.  No big deal.  Ahem.  

Except for my taking Antonio to work and driving back home from Las Vegas Boulevard all by myself earlier today.  My first time behind the wheel here, and it involves getting myself home from the Strip.  Even though it's only about three turns to get home, I was a wreck.  Holy shit, I'm a puss.  I can't wait for it to feel like home here.  I'm in a pretty cool city with the man I love (finally!), so the hard part's over.  Now I just need to grow roots.  I've been told to take a month off, take my time, get situated, but I think the sooner I get a job, the sooner I'll get a sense of normalcy back.  My brain's all about routine, baby.  A job to go to every day, a home to go to every evening.  With my extreme difficulty in adapting to change, I can't believe I lasted for three years as a flight attendant...  

I'm used to being the one living in the latest time zone; when I lived in the midwest, my folks were in Hawaii.  When I moved to Pennsylvania, my folks were in the southwest.  Now it's two hours later in Texas, and 3 hours later in PA.  How very odd.  Even that is throwing me off a bit.  So it's 9pm in Texas right now.  10pm in PA.  I miss my family.  Miss my friends back in PA.  Miss my friend Nancy, a friend and fellow flight attendant I haven't thought of in a while (I've got lots of time for my brain to roam while Tony's at work).  

I wanna pick up the phone and call someone (I'm sorta lonely, and Tony's working til 2am this week... ugh), but I really don't have much to say.  I've got warm fuzzies about the little things like, we both use the same hairspray and skin care products (he's straight, really!), he likes to cook, his sweet little ass is still defying gravity, and he's an even bigger Downy whore than am.  But you don't talk about that stuff on the phone.  And my nerves (still there, for some reason) would prevent me from being a good conversationalist anyway.  So I'll just watch some t.v. and venture out to WalMart (ugh) or Target (yay) a little later. Or maybe catch up on my journal reading, which I keep threatening to do.  Once I've recovered from the drive home.  

I'll post photos of the family and my stay in Texas (and even some cheesy ones of the Strip, which I plan on taking tonight), etc., as soon as I get my Kodak program up and running on this computer.  I promise (sorta) that next time I post, I'll actually have something to say...

phlskygirl at 10:21:57 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 8 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Well, bigger, anyway.  Especially hairdos and attitudes.  As Bill Engvall puts it::

"Stereotypes are wrong, but they're hysterically accurate."  Amen, er, yeehaw.

It's official.  I'm over Texas.  Hurry up and get me, Antonio.  Rescue my (non)happy ass, already.  I love my family dearly, but damn, it's time to go.  

This is the longest time I've ever spent in Texas; I'm not from here.  None of us are from here.  My dad picked here to retire as it was a near-deadlock between Iowa (mom's choice, and the one I favored), or Puerto Rico (dad's choice).  East Texas was the compromise, and one that my mother has regretted for the last 14 years.  I'm afraid I don't blame her.  There's nothing wrong with it per se, but after the history and culture of Europe, and beautiful, black Iowa soil (where you don't have to invest a fortune to grow tomatos, or even grass, in your yard), East Texas has been a bit of a bitter pill.  A month is plenty long enough.  Git 'er done, dammit.

The fireants here are killer.  I took a photo of my giant, swollen, red, angry ankle last night.  Too bad I can't post it yet.  My sister has helped break things up a bit, by taking me to Dallas a coupla weeks ago.  And last night, we went to the Horseshoe Hotel & Casino in Louisiana (near Shreveport).  I don't gamble, but the room was free, and it got me out of east Tex-ass for the night.  Intoxicated people are not amusing (for more info on my trip, see previous Bill Engvall quote).  

Unless it's your mom, and you have it on video.  Unfortunately, I'm not talking about my own mom; she doesn't drink, and she'd kill me if I ever taped her doing anything unsightly.  Which reminds me.  I video'd her going to town on a Gazelle (an exercise contraption) with my cellphone.  I'd post it, but she's in her pajamas in it, and she wouldn't hesitate on flying to Vegas just to kick my ass.

My sister has adapted terrifically -- she even has a slight twang.  I dunno how she's done it, but I'm glad (and a little envious) that she calls it home, that she calls anywhere home, damnit.  I hope someday soon I'll havethat feeling.  Just not here. 

Holy crap, do I sound annoyed.  Maybe that's because I am.  There are things, situations, going on around me, dynamics that have been in place for years that those living here have become accustomed to, as they deal with them daily.  I'm not accustomed to them; I'm family, but a bit of an outsider, and sometimes I find the situation(s) more than a bit upsetting.  I'd never invade my family's privacy, so I'll just say... they need to sell their home, buy a smaller one.  Just big enough for them.  No spare rooms.  They're too kind-hearted, or chickenshit, or whatever.  Enough already.  Get moving.

The latest Star Wars movie sucked.  So did Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe, come to think of it.  Jethro G. has actually seen it three times.  Star Wars, that is.  I'm even betting that he already owns the hi-tech light sabre QVC is selling (product number C25180, for those of you dorks interested).

I bought Dave Chappelle's 2nd season when it came out.  It was $5 more than the 1st season, but this time it came with a $5 gift certificate (go Target!).  My mom got to see one of her beloved comics say, "Is Wayne Brady gonna have to smack a bitch?" to a hooker, in a self-mocking skit.  Loooooove Chappelle.

Holy crap, it's almost 2am.  I slept most of the day away; I took some of my sister's allergy stuff (in liquid form; ass-kickin'!) to ease the swelling/drop the temperature in my ankle (it worked), but it knocked me out all damn day.  I wasn't up for my first cup of coffee until after 8pm.  And dumbass me drank every last drop.  

It's highly unlikely that I'll make another j-post (phew!) before I leave, so rest easy and enjoy the break.  I'm sure I'll be nowhere near as agitated once I'm in my home. 

Peace and love to all who deserve it, and to those that don't... may you find yourselves in Texas getting bitten by fireants.

phlskygirl at 2:55:26 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 8 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

So I've been in Tex-ass for over two weeks now.    

I won't bore you with the details (because we all know you're here due to my riveting, adventure-laden entries), so I'll keep it short.  

The move was sort of surreal, but I'm here.  There was more work involved than I'd imagined; God bless my mom for having been there.  Two days' worth of driving, and almost 1400 miles and I'm here.  Turns out my mom is a nervous passenger, which was a bit annoying (but considering that I talk with my hands, even while driving, and even while passing an 18-wheeler, it was a bit understandable as well). 

  The only time I got lost was while trying to make it back to the highway after driving into some city (I don't recall which, or which state, for that matter) for my Starbucks fix.  Apparently, accurate road signs are illegal in some states.  All was well; I ended up in a TJ Maxx parking lot (don't ask), so we felt sort of obliged to shop for a bit.   

Gone were the days of traveling with my father, where nobody got to piss unless he had to (we always knew a potty break was imminent when he was laying on the gas, frantically bouncing up and down in his seat to the beat of  "come on shake your body baby, do the Conga, something-blah-blah-something-hmm-hmm any longa..."), where 6 hours of sleep for every 16 hours of driving was a perfectly acceptable ratio.  And this was while we were on vacation.  

Where the hell was I?  Oh, yeah.  So I'm in Texas now.  Oh, joy.  Antonio's arriving June 1st, where he'll have to deal with icky weather, mosquitos, beans, and well... Texans, for 2 or 3 days, after which we'll head back to Vegas in my car for another glorious 1300 miles of driving.  I hope he doesn't plan on popping it off all in one day; I haven't told him yet I want to stop in Albuquerque to see a friend.  

It's been great being with family after not having seen them for 18 months; I sure got spoiled while the flying was free.  Nothing riveting going on other than some hedge-trimming (real hedges, out in the yard, you pervs), a coupla suck-ass movies (anything with "KungFu" and "Hustle" in the title is sure to suck), and discovering that my dad's old army camouflage BDU's fit me perfectly (they didn't even have to be hemmed!), and compliment my ass quite nicely (re: it camouflages in more ways than one).  Oh, and some bowling, where I scored a whopping 44, and will lie and say that I was not only drunk, but blind-folded as well (shaddup, Carla).  

I just wanted to let my fan know I'm still alive (thanks for checking in, both of you!).  I'd post pics, but it'll [phew!] have to wait til my computer's set up in my new home; the camera's here with me, and the dataport & software are in Vegas.   I hope all is well with you, my friends.  Now bugger of -- I've got some serious journal reading to catch up with.  As soon as I'm done with my nap.    

Aileen

phlskygirl at 10:41:04 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 8 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Today was just supposed to be another Sunday. Work from noon til 4pm, a little shopping, then home. Slight change in plans – Janet wanted to take me out to a quiet going-away dinner -- just me her, and her son Michael.

I end up not getting out of work until 4:45 (as usual) so I don’t have lots of time to shop. I figure I’ll pop into the Dress Barn real quick; it’s right next door, and even though it’s mostly old-lady type stuff, occasionally I’ll find something nice for a decent price. Turns out they close at 5pm, which gave me just enough time to walk in, note their hours, and turn around to leave, but not before the manager catches up with me to show me pictures of her baby boy (a premie who spent the first 5 weeks of his life in the hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines). I’d never have been able to tell from the photos! [How do I know her, you ask? Hint: she was wearing fabulous glasses!]

I still have about 30 minutes to kill before meeting Janet at the Olive Garden, so I go to Marshalls, and walk out with a groovy new cosmetics case. It’s in the same shopping center as the O.G., so I finally cruise on over, right on time. Michael and Janet are waiting outside for me, and as I walk up, Janet says, "Oh, perfect, they just called our table." She then walks through the restaurant and towards the back, with a purposeful stride, and without a server showing us the way. Hmm.

She walks into a private room in the back, and surprise! I’ve got a roomfull of friends gathered for a going away dinner. Just what I’d been hoping to avoid! And no one let out a word!! No one!! Not even Greg!

I’m glad they did it. We all had a lovely time. The food was good, the company even better. I even got a cake! And a cute boy served it! The best photos were taken on other people’s cameras, of course, but if I get them before I pack up my computer, I’ll be sure to post them (John’s close up shot of me blowing candles out, making the shot look like home-porn is a must-see!).

phlskygirl at 12:49:42 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 6 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Just as expected, I’ve dragged ass until just about the last possible moment. Up until now it’s been all talk, and no action. Seriously. I really need to stop dicking around, already. It’s April 15th. I pick my mom up from Phila. Int’l Airport on the 23rd. The movers are coming on the 27th (or is it the 28th?).

And I haven’t even started packing.   ~!!~

To help reduce my time-dickage, I’m going to drastically cut the time I spend online for now, including posts to my journal (on dial-up, logging on for "a quick 5 minutes" ends up being an hour, then another, and another…). I’m sure I’ll make a couple more entries before I pack this thing up, but iffy as to when I’ll be back up and running again. Could be a month or three, I dunno.

Here’s the plan. My mom and I are going to drive across the country together (mostly to make sure I stop in Texas for a spell on my way home…"home"…how I love and miss that word!). Then, I’m [surprise] going to visit the folks for a spell, after which I’ll eventually end up in Las Vegas. It’s not as exciting as Kelli’s trek to Scotland, but it’ll do.

I might also periodically post while in Texas (my laptop doesn’t work, and I dunno how hard it is to post from someone else’s computer).  I’d get all smarmy and stuff, but it’s not like I won’t be back, or won't remain lurking around, crapping in other journals and what-not, until I need pack up this 'puter.  J

Aileen

phlskygirl at 1:08:36 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 7 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

I didn’t set out to be fag hag.

And it didn't happen because I'm one of those women that’s so vile or insecure that I can’t find other women friends, either. When I was in my 20’s living in Illinois my girlfriends were all older than I, most of them married with kids. We were all comfortable in our skin, with each other, and never dealt with the cattiness and jealousies that trouble so many female relationships.

This wasn’t mere happenstance; I culled and cultivated the friendships I had specifically with these kinds of comfortable, respectful relationships in mind; girls my age in high school were unbearable to be around, and I’d gotten my fill of being "one of the guys" in my teens; I wanted female friendships in my 20’s, and was blessed enough to find them.

Eventually, I left these wonderful friends, when I left Illinois and my cushy, comfy job as a civil servant behind, for a job with US Airways.

I’d always been extremely, debilitatingly shy around strangers (I eventually rid myself of this problem by pretending to be fabulous while in uniform), but during my flight attendant training in Pittsburg, I accidentally endeared myself to an adorable southern redhead sitting next to me in class by asking him if he was German. Fred smiled and said in his southern drawl, "How’d you know that, darlin’? Wuz it muh accent?" He laughed, but then said "Seriously, how’d you know?" So I told him that while living in Germany, I noticed that most germans wore their wedding bands on their right, not left, hands. My simple curiousity, and utter lack of guile immediately endeared me to him, and all his buddies (turns out many gay men also wear wedding bands on their right hands, but Fred also just happened to be German!).

Fred, and Jeremy, and Ben, and Luis and I became fast friends, making the whole process of becoming a flight attendant less scary to me. I was the oldest, but had led the most sheltered life (the careers and adventures some of these men had had before becoming flight attendants amazed me; actors, housewives, laborers – one was even a tax attorney…!!), making the transition for me the most difficult. Only after becoming one of the "popular" students did other women start reaching out to me. Women in their 20’s. The kind of catty, attention-hungry girls that I had fortunately previously avoided (I was married for most of my 20’s, settled into quiet country life).

My adoring, caring, protective male friends adopted me as their token straight chick, and that was the first time I ever heard the term "fag hag". Had it not been for them, my early experiences as a flight attendant would have been a lonely one. Because of them, I never wanted for company, always had friends to party with on the weekends, always had guys barging into my room (some of them for study group, a few to borrow my MAC lip glosses), and never ever had to worry about waking up without my undewear on.

Never once did any of them label me a bitch, confuse my shyness (or occasional desire for solitude) as arrogance, never allowed me to stay in my hotel room on the weekends. They encouraged me to wear crazy-sexy outfits, daring me to outdo theirs, demanded that I shed my "midwestern housewife" mentality (their words, not mine; I was never a housewife), and act, dress, and carry myself as the goddess I was born to me (again, their words). Most of the guys ended up based at other US Air hubs, making it very difficult to stay in touch, but a few of us got Philadelphia, and continued our friendships.

I was somewhat disheartened to be reminded that all stereotypes are based on a grain (no matter how small) of truth. Some pilots WERE whores, only donning their wedding bands on the last day of their trip, when their wives would be picking them up at the airport. Some flight attendants WERE only flying to land themselves a rich husband (ugh), and they were as whorish as the pilots. Not everyone was like this; just some. Enough to annoy me, and enough to give me the resolve to not perpetuate the stereotype; I never once ended up dating a passenger or crewmember. But oh, the stories I could tell! We’ll save that for another entry; this one’s rambly enough.

On trips where the women were catty and the pilots attractive, the last thing those women wanted to do was include another woman on overnight activities, especially if they considered you competition. I so wanted to distance myself from that kind of woman that I almost always wore my pants uniform, my hair back in a bun, and my trusty doc martens (not realizing that this would end up attracting another kind of attention in and of itself!).   

I flew with my gay friends as often as possible, planning fun trips to San Francisco or L.A. or Seattle, knowing that we’d have a blast, and I’d get sucked into their crazy antics on some level or other. Cattiness, envy, bitchiness, materialism, and the need for attention will always be more tolerable from a man. Because women MEAN it. I know not all women are like this; just the ones I’d invariably end up flying with.

My friends made it fun. They were a true blessing, a joy to be around. I wouldn’t have lasted as long in the business if it weren’t for them. If Luis told me my ass looked fat in those jeans, or the lipstick I was wearing wasn’t my shade, it was because my ass looked fat in those jeans, and the lipstick really wasn’t my shade – I didn’t have to worry if he was only saying that for fear of being outshined.

The whole reason I got on this rant was because I was thinking the other day of what a fabulous flight attendant Greg would have made. He’s sweet and catty, deep and shallow, fun and serious (ok, not so serious), and flying would have been a fucking blast with him. I’m glad I finally told him I treasure him, after a night of To Wong Foo and tequila.  Oh, and he introduced me to his cousin at Hershey Park the other day as his fabulous fag hag.  :::purr:::!

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Did I ever tell you that the reason my head got slammed in the door of a 737, causing me to be hauled off  in an ambulance from Chicago O’Hare on New Year’s Day of 2000 because Luis was calling me on the interphone to check out some hot guy in the main cabin? Ah, good times. If my scanner worked, I’d post a photo of my swollen head…

Flight attendant or bellboy?  You decide.

phlskygirl at 2:06:46 PM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 8 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Got back from Philadelphia a coupla days ago.  I’ve been meaning to go for months; I sorely needed to get the air conditioning in my car fixed before Vegas, among other things.  Can you imagine? No air in the desert??  Yikes!  Turns out my radiator had a hole in it as well.  Glad Johnny caught it (we’d been poo-pooing the smell of antifreeze for months – ack!).  I was going to have the beast painted as well, but turns out papa has all the necessary equipment, and he and I, as well as my sister, will make a project out of it while I’m visiting in Texas.  All that matters is that my poor little Purple People Eater is now 100% road-worthy.

Took some photos while I was there (Philly). Made Johnny drag me to South Street on Friday.  I’ll miss it.  I’ll miss Johnny, too.  I love you, papi chulo.

Not much of an entry, I know.  I keep meaning to make them, and never get around to it (they’re witty, intelligent, thought-provoking, and awe-inspiring, every damn one of them!).  Tomorrow(ish) I’ll post the pics Greg and I took at Hershey today.  I think I’ll title the entry, "Happy Bunny Whore Goes to Hershey Park".  Wait’ll you see my socks, people…

P.S.  I'm very behind on my journal-reading, folks, so if you could all just stop posting for a few days, it'd help me out a lot.  Thanks in advance.  

phlskygirl at 12:27:36 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 6 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

 An evening of rivetting IM-age... (I'm sure Kris won't mind; she's a hoot, and it's totally worth invading her privacy).  Damn, I hope this C&P works...

PhlSkyGirl:  I know, you're not at your comp... you're off doing some motherly-type crap <eyeroll>... kristeenaelise:  crotchedy british shopkeeper, tyvm
kristeenaelise:  selling one earring for 65 cents.
PhlSkyGirl:  You're what?
PhlSkyGirl:  You're selling shit to your kids?
kristeenaelise: she needs practice counting change. 
PhlSkyGirl:  Oh, how fun!
PhlSkyGirl:  <I think>
kristeenaelise:  she finds it quite funny.  LOL
kristeenaelise:  I also sold her a rubber lizard, an old phone and a used bingo card.
kristeenaelise:  LMAO
PhlSkyGirl:  Are you using the new state nickels, or the old ones?
PhlSkyGirl:  Those new nickels look totally fake!
kristeenaelise:  everything that was in the car change thingy.  THEY DO!!
kristeenaelise:  I must find other things to sell.  
PhlSkyGirl:  Should I take photos of groupings of change for you?
kristeenaelise:  ooooh that's a good idea!!
PhlSkyGirl:  I've got ASSLOADS of change over here.  I could throw some in the toilet and make the pics look artsy an' shit!
kristeenaelise:  "How much change is in Auntie Aileen's crapper, sweetie?"
PhlSkyGirl:  LOL!! kristeenaelise:  She'd bust a gut laughing.
PhlSkyGirl:  <wheeeeeeee!>
kristeenaelise:  yeah!!
kristeenaelise:  omg I'm listening to Free's song from her journal page.  She's like....really good!
kristeenaelise:  it sucks not.
PhlSkyGirl:  www.trishmonaco.com (pics coming up)
kristeenaelise:  YAY!  (I still can't believe you're throwing coins in your toilet.)
PhlSkyGirl:  It won't be too practical; it's all bunched up on the bottom. :(
kristeenaelise:  heh.  still!!!
kristeenaelise:  hee hee
PhlSkyGirl:  I seriously need to clean that damn thing (ygm).
kristeenaelise:  ok so its hard to tell, but she made out three quarters, a dime and she thinks four pennies for a total of 89 cents.
PhlSkyGirl:  Rock on, sistah!
PhlSkyGirl:  Ok, one more.
kristeenaelise:  heehee (she said to tell you thank you) and she thinks we're weirdos.
PhlSkyGirl:  Truth hurts.
PhlSkyGirl:  Ok, ygm!
PhlSkyGirl:  (was hiding it in my Karmel Sutra ice cream a bit much?)
kristeenaelise:  7 Quarters, 13 pennies, 3 nickles for $2.03.  (she thinks)  
PhlSkyGirl:  Rock on!  I cheated; one of them I had smashed in one of those coin-smasher thingees at Hershey Park.
kristeenaelise:  and she wants the ice cream.  (we counted it!!)
PhlSkyGirl:  Homework is fun!
kristeenaelise:  she wants us for teachers (say it with me - HECK NO.)
PhlSkyGirl:  Oh.... Heck no!
PhlSkyGirl:  Unless she brings ice cream to class!
kristeenaelise:  woohoo!!!
kristeenaelise:  ok I'm outta here.  we'll talk soon FOR SURE.
PhlSkyGirl:  ttfn! xoxo
kristeenaelise:  XOXOXOXO  

[PS.  I can't wait to meet her in May!  Albuquerque here I come!]

Upon describing our rivetting IMage to Trishy , she just had to get her two cents in (plus change)...

                                   

                                ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

The new guy started today.  My replacement.  As IF I could be replaced, right?  Nice guy, horrible toupé.  Truly.  Looks like he stole it from a homeless dog that had been using it as bedding.  And then died in it.  After convulsing horribly for about 45 minutes.  I kept catching myself talking to it, as if it had its own personality.  Which in a way it did, seeing as how it travelled all over the top of his head.  Isn't there some sort of special toupé glue gun or stapler to keep that from happening?  He has no personality to speak of, God love  him. 

I'll miss Janet terribly, but at least I'll have VEGAS to help me get over her, and she'll have... Toupé Tim.  Sigh.

phlskygirl at 1:35:50 AM EDT Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 11 comments: Show Recent | Add your own

Blah!  I keep making mental journal entries (key word: mental), but I just never get around to posting.  This one's merely a a lazy cut-and-paste... it's a comment I just posted to another journal regarding the author's ultra-secret Oprah-related fantasy.  It's so ridiculous, I had to share, because... yes, people, I AM a shallow idiot.   

Oh, my, GAWD!! [seriously. it's 5:40am. i should be sleeping... ]

Seriously, the Oprah thing. I'm in the audience because I'm there to support a friend that's had a horrific life, who's a guest on the show. Oprah's interviewing her/him (doesn't matter which, this is about ME!), and it turns out that the show is about ME! The cameras pan towards ME!, a totally unsuspecting guest in the audience that just HAPPENS to look absolutely fabulous, even while crying! The show is about how I! am such a wonderful supportive friend, and how I've dedicated my life towards others, and I! end up getting one of those $100,000 checks from Oprah (remember those shows?) just for being ME!

I'm so not this generous person. Seriously. I consider leaving my apartment enough of a contribution to society.  So basically... my fantasies are a combo of yours AND Kelli's!

PS. I'm totally not making this up.  I wish I were. Especially after reading the shit I just wrote, but alas.  It's true.  I'm apparently as deep as an Abercrombie catalog...

<curtsy>

Oh, PS.  Please note that I've not outted the author in any way.  Although I should probably have changed Kelli's name, huh?  :o)~

phlskygirl at 6:01:24 AM EST Permalink | Blog about this entry |  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this This entry has 7 comments: Show Recent | Add your own