Britney's baby bombshell!

I was reading my girl DanjerusKurves’ entry about her being tired of being single. Jesus Christ, do I know exactly how she feels.

I mean, I don’t want to get married, or start popping out kids. But now that I have finally gotten over the fear that if I gave myself to someone again I would get crushed has gone away, I am ready to have someone around for more than an hour or two at a time.

Then I started thinking about some diaries that I read, in which the writers of said diaries are in love with someone hundreds (if not thousands) of miles away. And I wondered, would I rather have no one, or have someone that I can’t be with? As frustrating as it sometimes is to be alone, I think it would make me completely insane to be madly in love with someone and not be able to touch them, or kiss them whenever I wanted.

It is wildly romantic, to have the promise of that person. To have this whirlwind long-distance relationship, to feel so strongly, and to promise your heart to someone whose presence you have never actually been in, when you’ve only communicated through instant messages, e-mails, and phone calls, is both frightening and exciting at the same time.

But when you are in love with this person so far away, whom you have yet to meet, how do you live up to the expectations one person has built up in their mind about the other person? How do you handle the possibility that they might not be all that you thought they would be?

I have met a lot of wonderful people online through my diary, but I have never had any romantic feelings toward any of them. Dirty thoughts, of course. I have dirty thoughts about just about every man I meet. But serious romantic thoughts, no.

I should talk to my friend Mrs. Mitchell about all this. She met the man she is about to marry online, when he lived in North Carolina and she lived out here in California.

My hormones are really messing with me lately. I have to stop thinking about this crap.

---

How do I segue from that sensitive mushy crap to my usual foul-mouthed drivel?

Like this, you fuckers!

Why are they calling it “Britney’s baby bombshell!”? The gossip rags and the idiots on tv have been saying she’s pregnant for weeks. How is it a bombshell when everyone already knew?

If Justin Timberlake announced that he was pregnant, THAT would be a bombshell. And if I could, I would so be the one to knock his ass up. Say what you want about his music, that guy is hot.

Speaking of retards on television, NBC was running promos for their Americanized version of the hilarious British show “The Office.” They were showing some of the reviews of the new show, and the one they were really proud of said, “original!”

How can a show with the same title, same premise, same characters, and same setting as another show be called original?

Clearly I am in the wrong line of work. Idiot television executives obviously need no skills or common sense whatsoever. Then when I get really powerful I can make Ashton Kutcher disappear. Forever.

---

My e-mailing fan was kind enough to send me another email Saturday morning:

Subject: you want this
Date: 4/10/2005 11:01:22 A.M.
From: StupidRedd@hotmail.com
To: dorksarecool@gmail.com

you look like a major hoar in your comments section. do you really put out
so easy on dates liek you talk in your comments?you must be really horrny all the time.

The best part of this email was the subject: you want this.

I <3 my crazy illiterate fan.

---

I was talking to my co-worker friend Margie about music today. She was saying there was a bunch of music out she wanted to get, so I told her whatever I had that she wanted, I would burn for her, because I am fucking nice like that.

She came over after work to look at my collection, and apparently, I have a lot of crap. She ridiculed me mercilessly for my taste in music. Some cd’s in question:

The Monkees
Tom Jones
Poison
Power Ballads (heavy metal compilation)
Wham!
Jennifer Lopez
Debbie Gibson
Beaches soundtrack (I am not the only homo who likes Bette Midler)

There are more that I am not willing to admit to. I love the cheese. What can I say?

---