I have no idea what that means. I’m hungry, I’ve had no coffee today, and my brain keeps letting out a series of long-winded farts (Hah!) every time I try to type a cohesive sentence.
True to my word, Ken owed me a date night and Mexican food for dinner. I only had a salad which was meh, but I made up for it with the most magnificent margarita I’ve ever seen. It was 34 ounces of pleasure on my tongue. Not only did I finish the whole damn thing, but I also walked around with a wonderful buzz for the better part of an hour. If I could only talk my boss into Margarita Mondays, we’d all be a much happier bunch of misanthropes.
We followed this lovely meal of alcohol with an evening at the symphony, or as I like to call it, Classy by Osmosis. I was sporting a lot more cleavage than some people would consider appropriate, but osmosis works best when you have more exposed surface area for absorption. Besides, it was the symphony and did I mention that Ken was with me? Much like some people pack a bag of toys to keep their kids occupied, I pack some fun bags of my own to keep Ken occupied.
And if that’s wrong, well, you’ve clearly never dragged a bored spouse somewhere they don’t want to be.
I also brought my opera glasses and pointed out the violinist who sports some fantastic cleavage of her own, but we were sitting too far away to get good pictures of her, so here’s pictures of us behaving like jackasses instead:
Last night, we had an opportunity to go to one of my favorite restaurants for dinner and a Top-Shelf Whiskey Taste. Apparently, it’s a pretty big thing because even at $65 a ticket, it was sold out and there were at least 200 people there. Thankfully, I didn’t pay for our tickets. It was fun and there was a metric assload of free booze from Scotch to Spiced Whiskey, to some locally brewed Rum and Brandy, but the restaurant wasn’t running the full rodizio menu and it was pretty cramped to try to sit and eat anyway. Plus, after 2 hours of walking around trying to balance a purse, a tasting glass, and a water bottle, my b0rked toe was killin’ me. Still not broken, but damn sure feels like it. This is what I get for trying to clean house. Will I ever learn?
Since it’s been a tad on the slow side today, unlike yesterday when I spent most of the day in the car, I went and looked at my stats for the website. It stands to reason that when you feature the strange shit that I do that you will attract some special people during web searches. We are a special bunch ourselves. However, I can’t help but feeling that some of you landing on this site are either getting way more than you bargained for or not nearly as much as you were hoping for.
I honestly cannot remember – have I actually used the phrase “unicorn stabbing fucktards?” It sound like something I’d say, but if that came from me, I’m not using that phrase as often as it deserves.
Owl wearing socks? WTF? Owls don’t wear socks. They hack up bony little furballs and stand in those when their feet are cold. Duh!
Sugar tits? Why, yes, they are nice. Thank you for noticing, but Barbie anal? I think you might have the wrong idea. Regardless, the “bitch, you goin’ down” comment was a bit uncalled for. Besides, I have rage issues and you’re a dead man walking.
Anyone else have any strange search results in their stats?