Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
He’s creepy—and he’s just my type!
Now? The spammer dicks are still spamming my pings, but they're leaving numbered sites THAT DON'T GO ANYWHERE. That ain't very bright, is it?

(flips arm against shoulder) Der der der der der deeeerrr der.

Speaking of not very bright, apparently there's a new study out that talks about about how obesity shortens lifespan. No. Get out. Imagine my sur-prise. Yawn.

Oh, for those of you who haven't caught Homegirl Snidgey yet today, you HAVE to read this entry of hers: Lookit. Not only does she talk about the grossest thing ever, she ties in a certain NWI icon, which made me laugh and laaaaauuuuugh. The rumors are true, man.
Posted by Broad7:52 PM
Bored and sleepy
I'm going to bed, yo.

Oh, btw, I'm getting rid of pings, because those stupid-jerk spammer dicks won't leave me alone. If I get a particularly good meme, just link me.

That is all.
Posted by Broad2:12 AM
Monday, March 14, 2005
Whole lotta shartin’ goin’ on (US Title: Where my boobs at?)
Some of y'all might remember that I was having some Southern-fried company this weekend, right? You know, to come up and catch my favorite local band do its thing? Well, I can safely report that a good time was had by all.

Actually no, scratch that: We had a pheNOMenal time. Holy shit, man.

Outside of their stories, I really don't have that much to add. I mean, Wad and I caught up on life in the four or so years we weren't talking, and I got to drink a ton, which I haven't done in a long while. Oh, and can I tell you Bite the Lime was ON FIRE? Too bad we didn't get to STAY for their whole set since a certain Wad got bored. (cough) And the one guy was even there, looking mighty fine -- the girls said so, even!

My only complaint? It seems that everyone took pictures of each others boobs and posted them, but no one took a picture of mine, and mine are the biggest. I feel strangely left out by that. (Of course, there was an abundance of shots of my big ol' ass and gargantuan head, but that's another story. My hair was fantastic, though.)

I too am going to set up a yahoo! album for everyone to see, but I'll close for now with how much fun I had and how much I'm glad everyone came out. Some real bonds were made that night. (Sniff, sniff!)

P.S. For Og's edification: Beer + 3 shots takillya + two weak margaritas + chicken burrito suiza + pancakes and meat = Glad I woke up alone Sunday morning. Whoa.
Posted by Broad9:57 PM • (0) Trackbacks
A taste of stories TK

In order to not leave y'all hanging on a sour note, I'll let y'all (read: Ogger) drool over this while the Fantastic 5 (the new name for our badass blogging gang, and we came up with it our own damn selves after plenty of beer and takillya, thankyewverymuch) recuperates from our groovy Saturday night. Can I just tell you how much I love each and everyone of these motherfuckers!?!?!
Posted by Broad1:38 AM • (1) Trackbacks
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Before I get to my kick-ass weekend …
leave it to Mother to piss up my rope.
Posted by Broad11:13 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, March 12, 2005
The info on the show for Wad (since he doesn’t know how to e-mail like a normal person)
Show starts at 7 p.m. at McCool's (straight up Rte 6 in South Haven), but we're going to go to PeePee's next door about 4-ish, 5-ish. Tickets are $9 at the door.
Posted by Broad5:45 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, March 11, 2005
Snidgey called …
a couple hours ago -- she was about to hit Cairo, Ill., which Kaffy says that's about where she should've been around when she called. If she keeps making good time, she should arrive here about 7, 7:30-ish.

Chez Broad'll clean, and beer will be consumed.
Posted by Broad6:06 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Good news, everyone …
I found the shirt I'm going to wear tomorrow night. Even better? It still fits without making me look like a freaking sausage. Highlights the boobs, plus it'll look great with jeans and my Frye boots. (I was thinking about breaking out the Manolos for this, but it's going to be ass cold and snowing again, plus this is down-home rock.)

However, my house is still not straight, I still have laundry to do, AND I have a story I need to work on. On very little sleep. Weh.
Posted by Broad3:38 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Get the par-tay started
I like the name of Headcase's drink better, though it has NOTHING to do with any sort of hypochondriac tendencies anyone thinks I have. (I'm looking at YOU, Tara. Stupid spreading rumors about me on the Internets ... cough) I bring you the Mixilator, courtesy of Headcase.
Posted by Broad7:42 PM • (1) Trackbacks
I am NOT a hypochondriac. Where’d you get that?
But I mean, you know, when the one you're crazy about tells you they've been having headaches for the last couple weeks, you'd be a little concerned, right?

Yeah, Sunday morning, the one guy on his way over to the crib tells me about how he is so NOT a pill popper and how he'd never be able to be a pillhead ever. I ask why's that, and he tells me that he's been having really bad headaches the past couple weeks, which is a little unnerving in and of itself since the one guy is one of those who'll only go to the doctor when two or more appendages are falling off. I, in the meantime, am one of those "pretend doctors" who never would've made it into, let alone through, med school but who reads up on medical diseases for fun sometimes. Anyway, the following conversation ensued:
Posted by Broad2:46 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Like I’d share it with y’all
You are Princess Agbani. You are a student at the University of Nigeria, Lagos.  You got my name through the chember of comerse.  You have $21,350,000 to share, which your father, the king, left you. You have trouble spelling.
Which Nigerian spammer are You?

[Thanks to the Wad for getting this cleared up; I thought the a href at the beginning wasn't supposed to be there ... Oh, and originally horked from mikey.]
Posted by Broad1:03 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Wad! Wad! Wad! Wad! Wad! …
(Once again, to the sex show chant of Requiem for a Dream)

Consider this your call to arms, ladies, to get the Wad to join us for the show Saturday. I figure if we start on him now, we'll get him worn down by then.

So what say you, Wad? Wanna join the wimmins for some Mexican beer, laughter and song? And farting? You know you do.
Posted by Broad6:32 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Five days and counting
Yesterday, it was sunny and 62-ish degrees. Today? Ass cold and snow. What the hell, man!?!? I know it's Chicago; I don't care. It ain't RIGHT. Gah.

Ok, so the office/guest suite du Snidge has been vacuumed and my desk orange-oiled and made respectable-looking, so all I need to do in there is wash the sheers. Then, the can needs a light cleaning, garbage needs to be taken out and living room straightened, and Chez Broad will be ready for my peeps (I'll also vacuum out the couch in case Headcase decides to crash, unless she wants to bunk with me, but then that'll mean I have to clean MY room out, and that I'm kind of trying to avoid. But the couch is extra comfy; I'll even take it if she wants the bed). Kaffy will bunk at Winston's, natch, and Tara and her friend live close enough that they'll go home. Yeah, Tara has to bowl in the annual Post bowl-a-thon Sunday, so she best not get too loaded Saturday night.

Oh, and if I can find it, I do have a cool shirt to wear. Just got to retrieve it from one of the many laundry piles.
Posted by Broad1:55 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, March 07, 2005
Choice for me? Cancer free
Some "no news" up in the hizzie: About three weeks ago, I went for my annual roto-rooter, right, and the fine people at Planned Parenthood said that if I didn't hear anything from them within about three weeks, that means everything's all good. So, three-week mark was Saturday, and I've heard not a peep. Why is this cool, you ask (or not if you're a dude, so you can just skip the next part)?
Posted by Broad3:42 PM • (0) Trackbacks
See if you can detect the pattern
So Tara and I are walking through Target yesterday, and we were talking about the whole Anne Bird/Scott Peterson thingy; she caught it on Matt Lauer, because she thinks Oprah is too "Oprah" anymore. Anyway, she tells me about what Matt covered that Oprah failed to mention when she did her interview: Bird didn't go looking for the Petersons; Jackie Peterson FOUND HER.

Huh. How 'bout that.*

[Clarification: According to the transcript, it was actually another biological brother who found her, not Jackie herself. Don't think it much matters; the outcome's still the same.]
Posted by Broad4:55 AM • (0) Trackbacks
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It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

Save the Net Now

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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