Six Word Saturday

Describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing.

My creative mojo's 
making a return!

I can't be more grateful to Penny for hiring me to revamp her blog.  It seems to have kicked in my creativity and got me out of this grouchy ass slump I have been in for the last few forevers.  And her timing couldn't have been better - I was literally down to less than a dollar to my name.  Of course, the bulk of it is already spent - but that's the way the dick dangles in today's world.  Her new blog design has generated tons of interest - an inordinate amount that really surprised me - so perhaps I can get some more work from it.

I had such fun creating her design.  She really just asked in passing, and didn't give me a whole lot to go on.  I just used her vibe and energy and ran with whatever came to mind.  Turns out she loved the spec - and, for the most part, that inital maybe became the design you now see.  Didn't have to do a whole lot of changes to the initial idea at all.  She's happy with it and I am more than thrilled.  It's one of my favourite designs of late by far.

I am working on creating a pseudo-portfolio over on Tumblr with some of my design work so that I have somewhere to refer folks to for examples of what I do.  I also ginked my own blog up a little bit - added a third column and a little marquee with the four most current blogspot designs - but it seems to have a mind of its own (the marquee, that is) and runs any which way it wants to...  Will have to look at it and see if I can't figure out that the deal is with it - but it's kind of entertaining to see what in the slappy happy wet ass it's doing now...  Yeah, I'm easily amused.

Anyway...  That's my Saturday and its words of six today.  It's been one hell of a week - for everyone it seems.  Curious to see what the rest of y'all are sixin' today.

Cheers.

p.s. Why is great spelled great but grateful is not spelled greatful???

A Month of Me: Day 9 (Busy work...)

No real funnery to report today.  Have been busy working on a new look for the Blog Formerly Known as The Winter of our Discontent and now known as Penny Lane.  She wanted something new and upbeat.  I think I achieved it.  She's not given the final Hoo-Hah! yet, but it is live.  Check it out and let me know what you think.  I rather like it.  It fits Penny perfectly, I think.

Went to the Post Office this morning - and while nothing happened this time AT the post office, I do have a funny for you.  I am about 70 lbs. or so underweight at this point.  Being a broke ass ho, I've not the money to buy new clothes - nor do many people make clothes for someone with a 20something inch waist and a 34-36 inch inseam...  My britches fell the fuck off as I was walking down the damned road.  Off, dude!  Around my ankles off!!!  I tripped.  I fell.  FORTUNATELY, I had my draws on underneath (which is not the norm), so all of Copperas Cove got to see my "Greetings from the Pole" snowman boxers...  Go me.

But no bitching today.  Or ranting or raving or hysteria.  Just a plain ol' boring day staying busy and hoping for more work.  It's kind of a relief actually.  I have had about enough lately...

Honest Crap

I was awarded the Honest Scrap award by Miss Penny Lane over at The Winter of our Discontent.  The rules of the game are as such:

"The Honest Scrap award comes with a caveat or two. First, you have to tell your readers ten things about you they may not know, but that are true. Second, you have to tag 10 people with the award. Third, let all the people you've given the award to know that they've gotten it (comment on their blogs or something). And finally, make sure you link back to the person who awarded you."

So here I sit trying to come up with ten things...  What to share?  What to hide?  What won't freak my readers the fuck out and send them running crazy and naked to the nearing Nutcracker?

1. I am terrified - paralytically paranoid - of birds.  Fuck you, Alfred Hitchcock.
2. IRL, I am painfully shy.  Wallflower hide in the corner shy.  I often get misread as being a snob because of it.
3. I really despise cunty feminists that foam at the twat about not getting respect but then, when they do get the said respect they are oozing about, they foam at the ass about that too.
4. I really adore cunty drag queens.  As long as I am on the right end of their cuntishnessery.
5. I am colourblind.  I see colours, but I have great difficulty differentiating them.  I've never, ever,  seen the colour purple in my life.  I've trained myself to recall numbers for different colours.  Inversely, however, I see shade and tone better than most people with perfect eyesight.  That's what has made me such a good hair colourist and make-up aritist (and graphic designer).  I don't get hung up on the red/yellow/blue aspect - all I see it what is complimentary in tone and shade.

If "chivalry is dead," it's your own damned fault.

Dear Exacerbated Asshole,

I was raised to be a door holder, chair puller outer, car door opener, flat tire changer...  I am a yes ma'am please and thank you-er...  But in recent years, such actions are met with nothing but disdain and hostility and contempt and just down right fucking hatefulness.

So you know what?  Open your own fucking doors.  I hope the chair slides out from under you and you fall on your fat puckered ass in the middle of the crowded restaurant.  Change your own tire - and break a fucking nail - in the rain on the side of the interstate - during rush hour.  It's all yours.  And get the fuck out of my way while you're at it.  I was here first.

I'm done.

People bitch about getting no respect - get it - and then bitch about that, too.  Well, fuck you Suzy Homaker.  You can do it your gawd damned self.

Sorry 'bout your angry twat and your skewed perception of what is intended to be polite - and GASP! - chivalrous.

Hope you win.

- Rabbit

A Month of Me: Day 8 (To quote Margaret Cho because I am melting down and have no words of my own today.)

"I am not nice. I am a fucking bitch. I have been known to shoplift. I complain all the time. I am unbearable and annoying...

I am possibly the most manipulative person you are likely to encounter. If you look in the dictionary under "selfish," you will see my name and a small artist's rendering of my face.

The people in my world who love me the most live in a kind of hell from which they cannot escape, because even though I am who I am, what I am, how horrible I am, my love is overwhelming. This terrible incarceration they choose willingly, and their suffering is compensated many times over.

I am ferociously mean and unbearably kind, and this paradox is what keeps my friends close and my enemies closer. I hate injustice, dishonesty, cowardice, greed, stupidity - but that doesn't stop me from committing all of these acts in one way or another. I am not nice. Not in the least."

Couldn't have said it better myself.  Today I am the whiney bitch I bitch about.  I feel trapped and on the verge of totally losing my shit - and just don't know what to do about it.  I'll figure it out, somehow, I know but today I am just wallowing in it.  So fuck it.  No dancing.

"Girl, I just shit my pants!"

[Language (obviously) NSFW]

I don't know what it is about us NYC Queens and our obsession with bodily functions...  It's fuckin' funny though.  And HUGE props for the nod to Leigh Bowery in the video.  Love me some Sherry Vine!

A Month of Me: Day 7 (Slap me with a ten inch dick - Or, watch Rabbit go screaming from his own life.)

Well good fucking gracious.  Ever have one of THOSE days?  Today made those days look like backroom sex with Captain Kangaroo.  Trust.

I got up bright and early (and really fucking cold) to go mail some stuff at the post office.  Easy enough.  I'm standing there trying to figure out which hole to cram my shit in when a HUGE ruckus breaks out accompanied by a blood curdling scream that would make a banshee go, "What the fuck!?!?!"  I turn around - after picking my cane and the to be mailed mail off the floor to see some whacked out bitch hyperventilating perched ON the four foot counter over the garbage can.  Who knew a grown ass woman in a pencil skirt could hop like that.  I still have no idea what the hell is going on.  Grandpa Not-So-Jolly that works there comes out right about the same time a fucking squirrel pops around the corner.  Spaz Princess FLIPS the fuck out and is now STANDING on the counter screaming incessantly.  I don't know if this happens all the time.  If the squirrel and Ol' Man Grumpy Butt are friends...  Or what, but just as calm as can be he just walks over opens the front door for the little guy and away he scampers.  Bi-fucking-zarre.  He looks at me and shrugs and goes back into the back - never once even acknowledging the now mental patient freaking the fuck out on the counter...  Surreal.  I am just standing there in shock.  Muffy finally climbs down and rights herself with a "Hmph!" and goes into the front office area.  Lawd knows what ensued there...  I mail my shit and get the fuck out - still not real sure if what just happened really happened.  My life is never ending.  

Then - I found religion.  

When The Saints come marchin' in, hold on to your hoo-cha, Miami. Deys gonna be a Boucherie!

[via Nola.com]

"Dear Miami,

The Saints are coming. And so are we, their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans.

While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you should expect.

First things first: You need more beer.

Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't.

New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly.

And look. When we ask you for a go-cup, be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?

It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying hello.

Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.

February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami.

When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.

And if you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.

A Month of Me: Day 6 (In which most Bloggers would offer some bullshit apology...)

Yeah.  But I am not most Bloggers.  And I never said it was 30 consecutive days in the first place.  

I have just felt real disconnected lately - from blogging - from the Twat-o-verse - from life in general.  Everything - and everyone - annoys me.  I just haven't been able to stand all the twattage lately.  It just seems like an endless stream of virtual diarrhea..  All everyone does is either try to one-up each other or, inversely, bitch, moan, whine, and complain about everything under the sun.  Yuck.  Wipe your ass and shut the fuck up.  And don't even get me started on Facebook.  It's even worse.

Which is why I have not really blogged anything much in the past few days.  I haven't anything of worth to say.  So rather than becoming one of these people that I am so growing to despise, I have just shut myself the fuck up.  I know if I don't want to hear it from everyone else, everyone else more than likely does not want to hear it from me either.  I've gone through are pared down a huge chunk of people I was 'following' in an effort to eliminate that which irks the boobie.  Get rid of the garbage, so to speak.  

Missed the Grammys? Let me sum it up...

It smelled like this:

Yeah...  That's pretty much the highlight.  It was that good.  Of course you missed Queen Elton and Our Lady of the Ga performing together...  Which while the music was pretty rockin' - the performance, as a whole, was dull for Gaga and they both looked like discharge from the twat of the Coal Miner's Daughter.  I dunno.  You also missed Bouncey in a trashbag tutu doing some weird random Rhythm Nation impression as Tawny Kitean covering Alanis Morrissette - well, it would have been an Alanis cover had Bouncey remembered the words...

Then Pink did her flying monkey routine - AGAIN - and peed on the crowd from 30 feet in the air...  Swift: T did a rousing rendition of really bad karaoke with the incomparable Stevie Nicks that just frightened me.  Stevie must have voodooed T's young ass to sound like a braying mule (and thusly making Stevie sound like the Goddess she is).