Real Talk, sorta.

Hello you. How are you this August afternoon? I mean, I'm good - I totes need a trim and I'm really sturggling with a few things. Like, most importantly, which color low-lites should I get for Fall 2K11? I can't trust all of you as far as I can throw you (no offense) so I won't regale with you the steps I'm taking in an effort to choose the perfect shade of gorgeous, I'm sorry. Maybe one day we'll be there, but that day is not today.

The yelling on Maury today is almost too much. I mean, no shit! Of course Ky'Juan (not of the St. Lunatics - unfortunately) isn't the father! Hoes always be triflin' - trust and believe.

I've obvi taken my blogging outside - it makes my cool glass of Crystal Light and rum all the more enjoyable - and plus, I'll be able to see when the sun hits the exact point in the sky that brings on 5:00 - so I can proudly imbibe. Not that I'm not proud, but you get it. Even though I know its five o'clock somewhere, I prefer for it to be five o'clock where I am - at least until probation is over.

Now, you all know I'm a genius. I mean certifiable. And good-looking, too. No broken records, today, little ones, but I have been pondering expanding the scope of the blowout. I don't mean, you know, like bitching about like . . . okay, well "bitching about" probably wasn't a good example. You feel me. Basically, let's just declare an open season in terms of blog topix. Deal? Excellent.

Before I get you all calling me Anne Frank (I'm not Jewish, so fuck you . . . although I am great at hide-n-seek). And oh-my-gah! I wish I had some really good skeletons in my closet - or skin coats for that matter, but I'm (not) sorry to say I don't. And thanks to several flights of stairs and a pair of steel-toe boots, I have no illegitimate bastard children to report.

One of the things I've always wondered is if its possible to combine the humorous . . the witty intelligence with real life raw emotions we encounter on a daily basis? I'm not even talking about myself here necessarily. You all know this heart of stone has been shut-off for years now, if only for efficiency. I mean, of course its possible. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it - right Henry Ford? Walt Disney? Eleanor Roosevelt? What I wonder is - can all of the above be melded to continue to endear the feeler to the friend . . . ?

For example . . . can a woman be funny, intelligent, hilarious, witty, adorable and have a button nose and still be allowed to be all of those? Does she have to tailor it to whom she's passing her time with?

Oh my God, I know, I'm starting to feel like I'm leaning out of my New York City apartment clicking the ash of my cigarette onto some unsuspecting passer-by wearing a spandex lace-hemmed camisole with curly off-blonde hair and a hook nose.  (You're welcome for that really well-painted shot of Sarah Jessica Parker that just came to mind.)

Don't worry! You haven't lost me. I've always been this insightful. I'm just saying. I fucking love double standards - for the most part. Especially when they deal with TwitPic scandals and sexting. But there is a time and place for everything, little ones. For now, we will have to see.

OMFG - do you want me to be totally lame and use words like "sign off" and "then I really got to thinking about . . . " . . . ? I bet you do! Maybe next time, but probs not.