Currylingus

I. Am. Overcome. With. Rage. This is SHIT. And I'm getting claustrophobic. When realization strikes that there is no getting out, a previously comfortable situation begins to turn sour with a vengeance. It is Saturday night. Thirty minutes ago I was getting primped to go meet Ceepee and Homesick in the 3PB (Press Pause Party Basement) and now I'm SITTING IN FRONT OF A FUCKING COMPUTER AND BANGING ON THE KEYS REAL HARD LIKE. There is something in me that just cannot deal with such situations, which is why I have been extra careful to not get into them. I made the stupid mistake of placing my keys on the coffee table (which I almost never do just becuase of my fear of cases like this one) in a house where there are always keys on the coffee table. And then everyone left...WITH MY KEYS I BET, FUCK FUCK FUCK. So now I am sitting at home in all my finery and cursing loudly. The best part is, I'm trying to fucking call the suspect to see if perhaps they only have that one set on them thereby giving me hope that one set of keys is still kicking around in the house and waiting for me to locate it but no one is answering my messages. No no no, that's not the best part...the BESTEST part is that when I call the culprit the rings get cut off abruptly (first) then keep ringing (second) then cut off quick again...it may be my rage but I bet Dakoo's right eye that I am being ignored. What kind of heartless bullshit is that?! And I just got a call from the PPPB and it was Ben The Fighter-not-lover who I like to keep a little distance from becuase he like to wrastle but right now I would just love to throw some weakass punches in the name of fun...

OK, one last try on the phone and then I resign myself to watching "Hitchhiker's Guide"...dangit..."freaking goober". Fine, in an attempt to reach my place of Zen I will think about last night's happy times and show you some pictures. But first, should I write a nasty sms? Ooooo, it's so tempting!!!! I'm not trying to offend I just want to know what happened to my keys...hmmm...bad idea, I will completely regret it tomorrow when I wake up knowing how obsessive 6 calls and a nasty sms really is when I can't even know for sure if the keys were mistakenly picked up or what. Ugh. Wouldn't mind a bit of scotch with two rocks right about now...oh ya, in case you were wondering, I'm perfectly sober. About those pictures...

I moonlight as a fake wrestler's fake wife.



Meet Your Lovin' Uncle.



I like to call this series "Amos Descends into Hell".



That's all I got. Would've had more if I was elsewhere tonight. One day, my collection of party pics is going to be the biggest this planet has ever seen. Could someone not have invented a cheap way to scan bodyparts into computer controlled locking mechanisms already? I'm going to find a way to embed my keys into my body so I never have to leave them alone ever again. Wish me luck comrades!