It's The Girls Are Pretty "This One's For You Minxy!" Thursday And Friday!
Fans of this site do not need to be reminded that Prettygirl actually sprung from the abdomen of her far more brilliant sister, Minxy. Minxy had great plans for herself. She planned to be the one who would engulf the planet in a storm of fire, once she got a handle on the whole wrangling the servants of hell in service to her whims thing. But Prettygirl's father felt that Minxy was not quite pretty enough, and so he pulled from her side yours truly. This of course killed Minxy, but she lived just long enough to look down into her new sister's eyes and whisper, "He's the cunt. Devote your life to his destruction."
So, yes, Prettygirl's back on her Daddy's trail. Satellite photos place him in a post office in Sao Paulo. She needs today and tomorrow to take him apart at the eyes. So today and tomorrow are going up today. Scroll down and read today's today, then read tomorrow's tomorrow. As you know, reading tomorrow's today shall curse you to forever stink like yesterday.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Marshmallows Roasting In The Fireplace Day!
You've been waiting by the fireplace for an hour to roast some marshmallows, like Mom said you could after dinner. But then Mom starting fighting with Brad, her new boyfriend. They're screaming in her bedroom and sometimes it sounds like something as heavy as a human just fell on the floor. In a minute, Brad's going to come out to the fireplace and throw a bag of marshmallows at your head. He'll say, "Have fun you little shit." Then, from behind your mother's bedroom door you'll hear him shout at your mother, "There, he's toasting his fucking marshmallows. Now if you want someone to sit with him maybe you should call his fucking Dad over here so I can go the fuck back to Metropark."
Maybe she should.
Happy Marshmallows Roasting In The Fireplace Day!
Thursday, November 25, 2004
The Inside Of Your Gloves Smells Like Andrea Day!
Andrea broke up with you at the end of last winter and she must have been the one to wear those gloves last, because your hands smell like her hands.
"I guess everyone I touch will feel the shiver of ice-cold derision course through their veins until I find some anti-bacterial soap," you think.
You're still a little bitter and you shouldn't date yet.
Happy The Inside Of Your Gloves Smells Like Andrea Day!