Rent

Fur Posse Bill Paying

Chi Chi: Pesos

Lucky Lou: Magic beans

Gus: Dead birds

Charlie: I Owe U notes

I have become shackled, and I don’t mean with the pantyhose ’round my wrists like the other night.

1) I am happy to announce that I have real employment with a well-established evil company doing hopefully fun things while earning a paycheck enough to support myself and the large Fur Posse. During the time I work there, I have high hopes of actually using my degree(s) for the betterment of this planet. Delusional? Yes, yes I am. I am filled with appreciation in this horrid job economy. Filled. Somebody buy me a beer.

2) *Potential Spoilers* This week’s episode almost killed me. Ellen Tigh is the final cylon (and already dead), apocalypsed Earth had cylons living there in human form, the four last cylons had some sort of past lives there, Starbuck found her own dead body and burned ship and kept it secret, Leoben is a wanker who ran away scared, Dualla killed herself, and Roslin is giving up. In some kind of creepy foresight, I named the cocktail of the week, “Dualla’s Vanilla” (vanilla vodka & ginger ale). I refuse to name the weekly drinks from now on.

3) I want to nibble her whiskers off for breakfast.

Monthly Series: It’s Fraking Here

Dude.

I…just dude…I mean…the beginning of the end starts tomorrow. I appreciate you tolerating my obsession/extreme nerdy side. I know this is where you stop reading.

Battlewhore has breathed life into my fabulous chest ever since I gave up and watched it because Lucy Lawless was blond. Even after my crackwhore boss spewed the obsession for the show through her crunked-up grill after snorting a line in the county courthouse bathroom. I love this show and I’ll sing it to the world.

I was wrong though. I was wrong about the fifth cylon. I just don’t know who it is. I can’t figure this crap out, and I don’t want to know until it’s revealed. It’s the only thing I can deny myself. Delayed gratification, I’ve heard it’s awesome sometimes. Turns out…

Strive for Five.

Apparently y’all thought I was beginning to look like this:

I dreamed about Bret and yer mama last night.

Hi.

I squatted down to take pictures of the girls outside and I was accosted by a black manx and a german shepherd. Also, somebody take me to a tanning booth.

Anywho, there was a lot of snow up there.

And a lot of ice. I fell on my ass two (2) times (sober). I peed my pants from laughing so hard. Charlie was slipping too, even with his stilettos on.

By the way, he had me worried by insisting on passing out 2 feet in front of the cabin’s stove. I’ve heard of dogs loving the heat from a fireplace but have never personally witnessed the carnage. I would literally drag his limp body away from it after his non-responsiveness, but he would drag himself right back to the same spot and die in front of it again. Whatever.