Rubba' Hose Up Ya Nose
LJ has become a habitual thing, more than a few times I've hovered over the delete option only to be swayed by a "What Sexual Organ Are You?" quiz or a particular juicy rant about boxers versus briefs. For years I've suffered with CBS (chronic bitch syndrome), only to have the tool of my disease presented neatly in front of me, chalk full of animated emoticons and a whole host of Technicolour options to put down my particular flavour of b.s. (mmmmm...cherry).
Operation 'Adopt A Bum' is underway despite a few missing cogs in the proverbial wheel given the fact that our neigbourhood homeless guy isn't really on planet Earth anymore, but instead resides somewhere in La La Land (they have uuuuunicorns there).Badger Man (not to be confused with Rat Man) has become our change guy, as we figured it was easier to focus on one particular person rather than the bevy of individuals pan-handling for coin. We hope to make sure he gets decent meals or at least is completely pissed into oblivion 24-7.
Curly hair is a curse, at times it's accommodating, allowing ringlet glory but most times I fight off the Bob/Edward Scissorhand's combo deal, today is no exception. I am Joe's afro...phEar me. Last night I was ridiculed by Barbie while watching a program on the Hillside Strangler. It seems I had "Ken Bianchi" hair (minus the side-burns) or perhaps "Welcome Back Kotter" hair as a little kid thanks to my mother's insistent need to crop my curls. Unfortunately at 3 I couldn't muster the Bronx/Jersey accent well enough to use the "rubber hose up ya nose" insult.