Hit me baby with a bottle of Prozac one more time.
2007-02-17 11:24 p.m.

I don't usually dish about celebrities but I'm going to go apeshit on Britney. Okay? *A-hem* It is well known that major life changes such as having a baby or divorce can cause an episode of major depression. Let's throw on top of that, the inane competition in Hollywood to look good. Did you notice how Britney got back down to slut size within four months of giving birth? Oh how the media applauded and cheered when she walked onto the David Letterman Show in a teeny pantsuit jumpsuit thingy. "Oh she looks so good (skinny) she must be so happy (divorced)."

So yesterday Britney forced a hair salon to open after hours and demanded they shave her head. Of course, no one wanted to touch that trainwreck, so she had to do it herself and have a stylist clean it up afterwards. Next, with paparazzi in tow, she went down the street to a tattoo parlor screaming and yelling that she doesn't want anyone to touch her anymore, she's sick of them touching her, but still demands that they give her two tattoos. She got a cross on her hip and a pair of pink and red lips on her wrist. All the while jumping and screaming in pain during the procedure. Wow. The symptoms of post partum psychosis are: hallucinations, delusions, illogical thoughts, refusing to eat, extreme feelings of anxiety and agitation and periods of delerium and mania. Uh, is anyone paying attention here? The Britster seems to have hit all of these but no one is doing a damn thing. She may be a celebrity but she's an insane celebrity. Britney is crying out for help and no one is doing a god damn thing.

Her "friends" are just as fucked up, if not more than she is, so they're no help. Her family doesn't want to confront her because they don't want to gravy train to stop and her employees don't want to be fired. No one is willing to take her on. I know that shaving one's head can be cathartic and part of Britney's long locks were hair extentions anyway. You don't go from whispy chin length to down your back in a week through the force of nature. Athena shaved her head after her divorce in an effort to reclaim herself, plus I think she said she had bleached the heck out of it for years and it was a good time to start over. It was cathartic. But what Britney was doing was insane. And what's up with the ink? A cross on her hip? She's trying to connect with God? Is this a twelve step thing or is she feeling spiritually abadoned? Is this something that the voices in her head told her to do? Two lip prints? WTF? Is she coming out of the closet? Was all that hand holding with Lindsey and Paris for realsies? Does BFF now stand for Best Fuck Forevah! So what's it going to take? Some one dying? Who will it be? Her, the babies or all three before someone stands up and takes notice.

I'm going to stop here before my head explodes. Don't even get me started on Anna Fucking Nicole Smith.

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Totally random post.
2007-02-17 8:21 p.m.

BeautificationI'm absolutely in love with my peel away face mask. It's so much fun. However, I wish that it came with some essential oils in it so it smells better. It really doesn't have much of a scent, a little bit like glue but I'd prefer a mixture of rose, jasmine, neroli, amber and patchouli, but that's just me. I'm trying to get psyched about going back to work. A coworker said it's hell, but my boss said she's excited to have me back. I guess hell = work security. I'm hoping I can do this without passing out in the elevator or throwing up on my keyboard. I think it'll be fine. I even have grand plans for the elliptical machine in the basement. I'm thinking maybe 20 minutes after work before I go home will help me build up some stamina and might negate some of the muscle weakness I had. I don't think I wrote about that - my clutch foot would start shaking when I was in heavy traffic and every now and then my chest would shake and rattle. Weirdness, but it always passed. Maybe the deadly methopukesate is taking care of that. Currently, my eyes are touch and go. Eww. Eye touching. My left eye is sometimes useless, I think it's due to the scarring from the first round of uveitis. My eye can't make tears, so it gets dry and blurs so I'm basically down to one eye. Que lastima. Oh well, partially disabled or not, I'll be back downtown and able to hang out at Nordstrom's Rack and Ross during my lunch break. Score!

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Fight with the fishes.
2007-02-15 4:15 a.m.

Happy Valentine's Day!Valentine's Day was rather uneventful. The cats made me scones in the shape of hearts with raspberries in them. When I say in the shape of hearts I mean anatomically, which worked out well because the raspberries thawed and fell apart, giving the scones a rather bloody look. Oh well, it's the thought that counts and they were quite delicious. Despite the mouse foot. Loki claimed it was for good luck, but I think I ate his scone.

I've been watching The Sopranos on AE and it's pretty amusing. They cut out three quarters of the swear words and when they swear it's totally out of context: "Damn you." "No, damn you, Tony!" What? I also like how they lead you on with a really guesome scene and the second before any blood is about to be spilled they cut to commercial and when the show starts back up you're suddenly at the hospital. I'd say it's ruining the show, but I watched the first four seasons years ago so I can easily fill in the blanks. I think once season five starts I'm going to be pissed.

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Happy Valen, oh, to hell with it.
2007-02-14 3:54 a.m.

I hope your day is filled with expensive Belgian chocolates, bundles of roses, diamond necklaces and Hallmark cards with pictures of puppies with gigantic dilated eyes. I also hope you got a Frederick's of Hollywood peekaboo teddy with matching kitten heel mules. I'm already assuming you got a gross of M&Ms with the name of you and your loved one inscribed on each and every one. Because you, my lovies, deserve it! My cats are planning something big for me, I'm just sure of it. They're pretending to be sleeping, but I'm certain that's just a rouse. Right? Cats? *poke* *poke* Whatever. Much too tired to be witty right now. The picture says it all anyway. Will put out for chocolate and booze! I'm a cheap date.

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The Anthurium Saga Continues
2007-02-13 4:41 a.m.

What Was DeliveredThis is a follow up to my blog entry of January 27, 2007. As you may remember, I ordered my mother some flowers for her birthday and I chose the boquet called "The Simplicity of Anthuriums" because my mother has allergies and I wanted something very simple to match her decor and something not laden with pollen. The left side is the picture from Teleflora's website. On the right was what was delivered. Click on the picture for a larger view. I'm still perplexed about how can you sell something called "The Simplicity of Anthuriums" without a single Anthurium. The description from the website specifically says: "Know someone who’s unique, stylish…perhaps a bit exotic? Red anthuriums are the perfect floral gift to acknowledge their beauty and individuality! Three red anthuriums, along with stylish foliage, arrive in a glass bud vase." I understand that the florists are all contractors for these big companies and that their individual creations may vary a little bit but I mean, come on. What was delievered was very pretty but wasn't what I ordered and should have come with a bottle of Claritin. I paid $55. Should I complain? What would you do? Athena, you worked in the biz, what do you think?

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Not exactly a chick magnet.
2007-02-12 3:55 p.m.

Prettiness Under CoverIt's beautiful here today so I decided to go for a walk around the block to turn in my winning lottery ticket ($4) and stock up on even more lottery tickets and Diet Coke, because everybody needs a vocation. Plus my muscles have all turned to the consistency of Jello pudding and I have the stamina of new born fawn with tuberculosis. On my way home I saw a guy in his front yard walking something adorable on a leash. My first thought was it might perhaps be a ferret. "Oh, I hope he lets me pet it!" I gushed to myself. As I got closer I noticed that it wasn't fuzzy and it wasn't moving like a ferret. I began to think it was perhaps a baby kimono dragon. "Oh, maybe he'll let me walk it around!" I secretly hoped. When I got right up to his yard I saw that it was in fact, a snapping, ill behaved little alligator. "Oh, I hope he lets me beat it to death with my purse!" I thought. I stopped, at a fair distance, and called out to him: "Hey, is that a baby alligator?" "Yeah, actually it's a baby dwarf crocodile." He answered. I eyed it carefully and came to the conclusion that it was past flushing size, even with some very agressive assistance with a plunger. "Exactly how big do they get?" I asked. "Only about four feet." And he measured the size out with his hands while his pet crocodile tried to have carnal relations with the tip of his shoe. That is, if your version of carnal relations include a humping motion along with a biting and tearing motion. "Uh cool, see ya!" I sang happily and skipped quickly down the street. Now if I can keep convincing myself that dwarf crocodiles are too large to flush, I'll be all right. Otherwise I'm never going to use the toilet again. Ever.

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