The emo ship has left the docks making way for the party boat. I'm alright, I just had a little spazma attack. I had to get things off my chest because I don't need anything cluttering up the award-winning cleavage I am trying to achieve. So be my pal or don't. Talk to my ex or don't. It's all fairly simple either way and it's pretty much in your hands, people, and I'm just going to go with the flow. See me? I'm doing a little hula dance, that's how flow-going I am. See my arms? They're a-swayin'. See my hips? They're a movin'. And the people who really care about me...who understand what I need for the time being and what is best for me and what is the right thing to do to help me get stronger and what THEY would want to happen if THEY were in my situation...they're all doin' the hula, too! So be supportive of me but don't WORRY about me. Like I've said, I've wrestled tigers before...and they were angry.
Word around the rumor mill..and there is ALWAYS words around the rumor mill...is that Crazy Danny Daddy is going to make an appearance at Heavy Rebel. As if I wasn't excited enough...I now feel like I have crispy critters in my knickers. Not sure what that means and it sort of grossed me out but I needed something SO NUTTY to explain how riled up I am. I've been couting down to this event since there were 117 days left! And now...less than 3!! Add Crazy Danny to the mix of things I was already orgasming about...Lil Jen, Phoebe Bean, all the Ol' Kentucky Sharks, new clothes, old clothes, cute fellas, perty ladies, rockin' tunes, BEER, pink switchblades, Elvis busts, hotel swimming pools, KINGS OF FUCKIN' NUTHIN' (I am soooo getting my picture with a sweaty Toor Skoog)...and I'm not sure I'll survive it all. Winston-Salem, lock up your sons! We are on our way!
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