Labels: Hot fuzzy reds.
posted by fatmammycat at 11:41 a.m.
I'm a bouncy, opinionated, messy haired marathon running (!) bibliophile. I wear high heels and have delightful ankles. I'm a devoted drinker. I want a French Bulldog puppy whom I shall call Batman and dress in capes on occasion. I would also like a pug, whom I shall name Mister Woo. He can remain capeless, but I will make sure he wears a diamante collar at all times. Both dogs will submit to repeated snorgling and high pitched squeals that only a dolphin would normally tolerate. I hate Reiki/psychics/mystics/frauds with all my liver. Also, I'm firmly against Jazz and poetry/poems/pomes/ peoms or any of that stuff. I believe in the healing power of ginger.
12 Comments:
Being ginger has never been so fashionable.
Or so delightfully semi-nude.
I wish my gingerosity had stayed instead of fading into an auburn, I would have glowed my way across the world.
ginger is wiggidawack.
carrot is wrong.
orange can go either way.
thanks FMC.
now i REALLY need a jameson.
good luck on sunday.
While my older sister was watching the Partridge Family and pining over David Cassidy, I had a crush on Danny Bonaduce. I still have a soft spot for him. He's a wreck, though. It's a bit embarrassing.
Woah. Chris Rea has buffed up.
Cheers Miss Finn, and can't you imagine the fun you'd have with those two and a bag of speed?
Andraste, I don't know, I rather like a chap in meltdown that just doesn't give a shit. It's better than going to the circus, although anything is better than going to the circus so that's not really much of an example.
JPT, I always think of Chris Rea as a fatter older gravelly voiced Kevin Smith, am I remembering him wrong? Either way, I don't think I'll forgive him for Road to Hell.
I think I've had to speak to you about this kind of thing before, fmc. Carrot Top and Danny Bonaduci! I know you're trying to work on your own endurance for the marathon but, Jesus woman, if my eyes bleed and callous over any more they're going to end up like damp spots of snaggy velcro in my face and all manner of fluff will gather there. And you'll get the bill for my specialist opthalmology appointment and any expensive eye-drops indicated. And taxis 'til I can see to drive again. And audio-books and lots of chocolate, technically not an eye-related need but a need nonetheless.
Sorry Miss Sam, you know I love you dearly, but I've been tee-heeing and snar-arfing over these for days, DAYS I tells ya. It's ...say, what should a person with a sick debauched ginger/sex/freckle obsessions call themselves anyway?
What's your point darling?
I don't have one Eva, I just have a weird fetish for redhaired muscular nipply men who strip off in public a lot.
Oh. My. God. Yuck.
Just as I was reading this, the Spouse Sparrow calls to me from the other part of the room, "Don't forget to have something to eat today!"
No, I don't think so.
Not even a red sammich? Extra pepperoni?
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