Countdown

Yay! Less than a month until I go home to the States for a little holiday. Best to celebrate this countdown with some joyful images of hilarious property damage:



Fan-fucking-tastic. I finally get my license, after YEARS of looking like a total LOSERTRONIC, driving around with my DAD and his fucking argyle sweater vests and loafers with no socks and then THIS act of fucking GOD happens. Thanks. Fucking thanks.

Muffin damage (Dirty? Yes.) can happen to the best of us. Which is why I am taking shit to the streets:

This tasty costume is a damning indictment of how baked goods are ruining our lives and the lives of people we love... why, I'd rather some ominous looking bald man with a way too mythological looking bow and arrow aimed that shit at my HEAD... and did I mention that I am Stevie Nicks?

Cause I am, and it's TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT. I don't know whether to wind my ass or scratch my watch! Wait. CLEARLY the ass-winding is first on the list, am I right or am I right?

Seriously though, I am having trouble coping with the FLOOD of gypsy skirts that tumbled out of my closet (which is a BIT like a mystical hermit's cave, btw) this morning.

Once I sorted that shit out and put magenta with magenta, puce with puce and fuschia with fuschia- and I KNOW you're saying 'Aren't they all just fucking PINK, Stevie?' Well no, no they're not and I'll thank you not to disrupt my chakras like that- I smoked about a MILLION bowls and drank some hawk blood from a hollowed out wolf's fang I felt a bit more on top of shit, ya know? But now the fringed leather VESTS have to be dealt with, and then I've just noticed this ENTIRE FUCKING ROOM OF CANDLES that I basically forgot about since '78 and now they're all melty and some of the incense has gone rancid... and don't EVEN get me started on the HATS! The fucking HATS, people!!! Ya know, fuck it. Just fuck it.

Sorry, things got a bit beyond my control there. It happens. I'm not omnipotent here, people. For example: I am prepared to swear on a stack of pancakes that the guy next to me on the tube was listening to Hootie and the Blowfish. HOOTIE AND THE BLOWFISH. In 2008. And there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it, aside from trying my DAMNDEST to vomit on command right onto his chinos. I just had to sit quietly and take it.

Curses.