Because Bullets Are Pretty

I know, I know. My lack of blogging lately is shameful. I have no great excuse. When I get busy and get mopey, it’s the first thing I stop doing. When it really should be the first thing I keep doing. Or at least write shit ahead of time to publish at a later date. Geez woman! Get with the technology out there on the information superhighway.

But right now I’m tired and lazy, so it’s time for another installment of “Kristin Claims a Bunch of Inane Thoughts in Bullet-Point-Form as a Blog Post!” Enjoy!

• First off, Senor Beavis was under the impression that I got paid to write that last post about Twitter. Ha! I wish! No one has approached me about ads or pay-per-posts kinds of things. And I don’t think I’d ever do it. Because I’ve seen some of those and seriously? Do you guys want to read about ways to refinance your home loan? Because I think that’s the only people that pay you. And that shit ain’t funny.
• Instead, I just like Twitter. And I don’t know why! I just enjoy sending texts to no one. And people all over the globe could read about it. I still don’t get it.
• Maybe sending texts to no one would be a much better idea for me in certain cases. When I’ve had some of the hooch and get a little tipsy and think texting certain people is a good idea..
• Evan Almighty is a funny movie. I know Swishy wishes more people would go see A Mighty Heart, but sometimes you just need a good laugh. And the combination of Steve Carell and Wanda Sykes is HIGH-larious!
• Sometimes I hate summer. Besides the heat. (I mean, I think I am capable of talking about something else. Besides how hot is fucking it is all the damn time. But then again it’s like a little chilly right now. And I may or may not be sitting inside typing with a hoodie on.) But I don’t like summer sometimes because at this time of year, the sun stays out forever. (I mean, if you’re not in AZ, of course. They don’t change time and boycott daylight savings and pay for it by having the sun go down at like 6 PM in the summer. Which is probably a good things since it’s melt-your-skin hot there this time of year.) I was out at dinner and it was like freaking 8 PM and the sun’s all shining brightly, making me think the weekend isn’t anywhere close to being over. You, sun. You are a LIAR! In all your brightly, shining, sunny goodness. FRAUD!
• Oh, and yes, I’ll be complaining when it is dark at 4 PM and it feels like night before I even leave work.
• I complain. Durr. You should realize this. I’ve been complaining on this site for like 8 months.
• The other night I hit my knee on my closet. Or something. I think it was the door frame. And no, I wasn’t drunk. But then I went ahead and hit it 2 days later on the fucking corner of the coffee table. (I had been drinking then.) And now I’ve done and messed it up bad. Schwerer said it’s a hemoglobin or something. And I was totally going to post a photo of it, but every single photo was so damn unflattering. It looked like my knee ate a small cat or something. So you’ll just have to believe me. That my knee is fat. And that it’s a nasty bruise. (And it actually doesn’t look as bad as Friday. So really? Shock value went out the window anyway.)
• Friday was one of my early release days. I had a meeting in the suburbs and then had the rest of the afternoon off. (I love this summer hours thingy.) I had all sorts of plans. I was going to get an oil change! And get my car washed! For the first time in like a year!
• What did I do instead? I actually had a nice afternoon visiting with my mom, my sister and my nephew. (His birthday was Tuesday.) And we went to the Wal-Mart in town. And bought some of them new fandangled light bulb thing-a-ma-bobs.
• No, actually. But I did get a new rug for my living room. Ain’t it pretty? Much more pretty than a stupid oil change. Take that, Jiffy Lube!

• And the cats haven’t even puked on it yet. But it’s still early.
• Someone told me on Thursday that maybe I should swear less. That’s a fucking bullshit unrealistic goal for me to even goddamn think about doing. I’m sure I’d just fuck that damn shit up, bitches.
• Oh, and I got my hair did last Saturday. So in keeping with the tradition of endless photos of my fugly hair, here you go.

Yep, that about sums it up. I can’t even keep the goddamned fucking swearing out of photos.