Mistress Slinky, Hootchie Dancer Extraordinaire

I've been busy. Like screaming-hamster-on-a-smoking-treadmill--it-CAN'T-GET-OFF busy. So no posts for forever, although there is a LOT of stuff I want to talk about. Juicy, interesting things too, like mistresses, Brazilian waxes, bisexuality and power. But you'll have to be content with the bitching for a bit, because after this little haven of slackerism wears off I need to start working my skinny little ass off again.

I'm deeply hurt that you ALL thought that I'd been offered a job as a mistress to a married man. Do I look like I have a "will put out for car condo and credit card" face? That was a rhetorical question. Shut up. Instead, you all thought it was less likely that I had been hit on by a mental patient. Well I was. A chronic bipolar schizophrenic, if it makes any difference. And he wanted my number so bad he chased me down the length of the NorthEast line MRT. (Did I give him that number? Well, that's another story. A very embarrassing sort of story. That ends up with me apparently going away to Australia to live forever. Allegedly.)

And okay, okay, you all bitched to me that the Johnny Depp/Angelina Jolie thing was a trick question. "You want JOHNNY!" you scream to me on MSN. Well, yeah, Johnny makes me weak at the knees with his two-vodkas-and-a-snort-of-coke-before-breakfast look. But Ms Jolie looks NASTY. She looks like she'd tie me to a chair and whip me. And she'd make me like it too. Truth be told, she's hotter than Johnny. At least she doesn't turn up in public wearing awful blue suits. Johnny will always have a special place in my libido (it's way down south) but yes, the answer is still Angelina. But if you're all still grumpy about it go ahead and give yourselves a point anyway if you picked Johnny. Happy?

Beer vs Oatmeal. Sorry, the correct answer was 'beer'. I don't drink much, and never beer. By contrast, I actually like oatmeal.

WHY does everyone think that I've fallen off a platform hootchie dancing? This upsets me almost as much as the 'mistress' one. I do not hootchie dance. Well, not like that, anyway. And even if I did, I like to think I'm dexterous enough not to fall off a platform while shaking my booty to the beat. Ack. Do you really all think I'm so drunk/ un-coordinated/overenthusiastic/embarrassing in public? That was another rhetorical question. Shut up.

So hes, I kissed Mr. Fishlips for the sake of a friend. His lips were so big I felt like I was getting eaten alive. Biiiiiig leeeeeeps. And Miss J, it wasn't for ten minutes (it was probably longer. I am embarassed.) It had something to do with the fact, possibly, that he wasn't exactly ugly, despite the fishlips. Bearing in mind that the term 'exact' is a bit of a misnomer any time alcohol comes into the picture. And his body wasn't too bad. Exactly. (But his name, oh god. I still cringe when I think about it.)

And yes, the correct answer was that Slinky had broken 6 laws that week. No, I'm not going to tell you what they were. At least, not here.

Blue jeans, people, are an indispensable fashion item. Not stilettos. Sure I talk about stilettos a whole lot. But that's because at I'm at work a whole lot so I end up wearing them a whole lot. They make your legs look five miles long while simultaneously doubling up as a potential weapon of severe pain-causing. They also manage to induce sudden attacks of lust in The Boy on any given workday and entitle me to car rides back home. They're useful. But they also give you corns, hurt your feet, hurt your back, shorten your hamstrings and enlarge your calf muscles. Hello, Maradona. Come 8 pm if I'm still in the office, chances are, I'm barefoot. So, no, it's not stilettos. They look fabulous but will hurt you in the end, just like that hot boy who knows he’s hot.

Blue jeans, on the other hand. Blue jeans are your friend. They're your trusty default wardrobe choice, they're there for you when nothing else fits and you can't think of anything to wear. They go with everything. They make your legs look longer, your thighs look slimmer, and, a big plus, they show off your fabulous tattoo. A good bootcut hipster pair of blue jeans will do it every time. They go on with my stilettos and a crisp shirt, or with a classic white t-shirt and flip-flops, or with that slut top and bitch heels. Blue jeans are the bomb. Jeans rule. I love my jeans.

Bikinis come close in terms of wardrobe love. But you can't wear them everywhere and they give you tan lines. So yeah, jeans it is.

Oh, and WHO’S HOOBASTANK? The only person to score a perfect 100. He/she got the Johhny/Angelina question right.

More updates soon. Hopefully.