3rd leg
I Just Don't Know What to do With Myself...

Friday, November 07, 2003

While Kristin makes interesting arrangements to visit Virginia during prom season, Meesh makes a long-due/costumed return appearance over at Tony's (she's alive!), Kool Keith and Kat talks me out of pulling the plug, I'm just trying to keep it real and stay warm and unaggravated. That's a harder task than you might think when I wake up to 35 degree weather, and my daily Venti Raspberry White Chocolate is delayed by a customer seeking 25 assorted pastries. Who buys anything in volume at freaking Starbucks?!?!?!? She was damned lucky that I didn't have my heart set on a piece of Banana Nut Loaf or there might have been hell to pay, even at the early hour of 8a.m. What's worse, the people in line behind me didn't seem to have any problem with this ridiculous time-consuming request.

"Looks like somebody's office is going to start the day in a good mood," chirped some overly-chipper, not quite milfy woman in a pink hooded sweatshirt.

Why? One goes to Starbucks for overly priced caffeine, not overly priced pastries. See, this woman didn't walk out with any coffee. If she came walking in to my office saying, "I stopped by Starbucks this morning, and all I got you was some dry chocolate bundt cakes and pumpkin scones," my office would not be in a good mood. Battle lines would be drawn and somebody would be dodging blueberry muffins.

Thankfully I'm a regular, so my drink was being made before I even ordered it and after dropping a five spot I was on my way without confrontation. Speaking of which...

I'm all for sharing my emotions with others. While I normally choose to do so in an intelligent way with lots of multi-syllable words, I understand that others are not as blessed with such a large vocabulary or post high-school education. Which brings us to Mr. Round Robin. R.R., if that's even your real name, you could have at least had the sack to drop a legit email so we could have been chat buddies. Instead you're to be taken no more seriously than a 3rd grader who enjoys calling and hanging up on people when they answer. Critics and haters are welcome here, but you sir are not even worthy of gnat status at this point.

Finally, I've been conflicted for a couple of days this week in trying to come to terms with a very difficult decision. No, it has nothing to do with Liz Phair getting in and out of my town with so much as a peck on the cheek, but rather a certain moderately attractive Real Worlder.

I continue to be amazed by the number of visitors that find this site by way of a search for 'Trishelle nude pics,' and after numerous searches I've found a couple. Although scantily clad women are the norm here, to be appreciated and adored by both sexes, we've managed to keep things on the PG-13, and rarely R-rated status here. Is she really worthy of a one time exception so that I can make some of your (wet) dreams come true? Seriously, I know how appreciative I am that most of my favorite blogs are somewhat-safe-for-work, not that all of you have such conservative ideals you're stuck to abide by for 40+hours per week.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Trishelle is no Brynn, she's not even an Irulan, or an Arissa assuming the bags under her eyes can be effectively airbrushed out. Though her willingness to panty drop made for must-see-TV, it doesn't make her physically attractive. I can name off dozens of more attractive Real World alums, but if the outcry is loud enough, I'll deliver...

So long as you pervs let me know where and when to find Paris' amateur foray when it eventually makes it's way to public availability. I passed on Tommy and Pamela, Janine and Vince, and O.J.'s hot tub menage, but Rick and 19-year old Paris is a whole different story... If that makes me dirty, then so be it.