The Biggest Angel

So today while wandering the mall with a new friend who we'll discuss another day, I passed the Angel Tree. I have already bought and turned in stuff for two angels, a boy and a girl, and I had vowed that that was all I was doing this year. Last year I bought for seven of them and it got out of control. But as I passed that tree with all the names of the needy boys and girls hanging on it, I convinced myself to go for seconds. This time I decided that I didn't want to read through them and pick the ones I wanted because then I would be haunted by all the ones that I didn't get so I told the volunteers to just pick me two angels, a boy and a girl, and to make it the two oldest kids they could find. I figure everyone always picks the young kids with cute little wants and the older kids are always last picked. So they picked two for me and told me that they were both 15, I threw them in my purse and went on my way. Later tonight I pulled them out of my purse and actually looked at them for the first time. To my dismay I saw that neither one of the listed what they wanted for Christmas. Under the section where it tells you what the kid is asking for it said "Age Appropriate". What the fuck? That's fairly dangerous; isn't it? Who knows what a fifteen-year-old disadvantaged youth wants for Christmas. Not Hot Lips.

They did however have their sizes on the card. They always put the kids sizes on there so we can not only make them happy with toys, but make sure they stay warm this winter. I look at the girl's sizes and she wears a size 10 shoe and a women's size 22 clothes! Now that's a big 15 year old. Could that even be possible? I half suspect the mama put her own size down so she could rake in the free loot. But I can't think that way, I've just got to do my good deeds and keep on keeping on. So I went to the Cato Plus Fashions and tried to think like an obese afro american (at least I'm guessing by her name, it has lots of vowels) 15-year-old. And really, if anyone is up for that challenge it is Hot Lips. I got a camoflauge j lo suit (which I am most proud of) some jeans and a sweater and a dress up outfit, some tacky jewelry and an even tackier fur-lined faux leather purse with lots of buckles and furry gloves, scarf and hat. I rock! But now the question is, what do I buy as the actual gift. I hate to say toy because she's 15, but you know what I mean, something other than clothes. Help a sista out.

I bought the boy a basketball and a football and cd player and mp3 player (they came together, who knows, maybe he has a computer thanks to Blue Hippo). I figure I'll hit the Gap this weekend and get him a few outfits. Any other ideas?

Give till it hurts, people.

Future Sex

Big ups to Pam and Kid for going the distance.

Speaking of going the distance, Big Daddy announced today that he would not be sleeping at my house tonight and I quickly said, Um, no. I'll be lonely. Which is really just code for I'm horny, you strawberry blond stallion. Oh! We might just have a new nickname on our hands.


So remember when I was standing aimlessly in front of those nonautomatic doors just waiting for them to open? Well, today I totally outdid myself. I stood in front of a set of doors for almost a full minute while rifling around in my purse looking for my keys. Only the doors weren't locked, and if they were, I wouldn't have had the keys because it was just some random public building, and I'm mentally disabled. There are certain inconveniences to being brain dead.

I went on a little internet shopping spree this weekend which includes but is not limited to front row seats to the Blue Man Group in March and then a week later to the Justin Timberlake concert. What? That's not all. Nope. Guess where my tickets are for. Give up? The VIP Sexy Back Dance Floor! Yes! It even said something about bar service, whatever the hell that means, and really it is so unnecessary because I'll be intoxicated by my proximity to the sexy stylings of Mr. T. Lake.

Of course there is that question as to who I will be dragging along to these two social events of the decade. I bought two tickets for each. Blue Man will be easy to pick a date for, but Justin? That's a horse of another color. Stacey, tell the boys and girls how much dancing Hot Lips will be doing on the VIP Sexy Back Dance Floor. I'm thinking of ebaying this very unique experience. Any bidders?

Allergic To Broke

Push It by Rick Ross is the jam of the minute. Go download it and pretend that you are Hot Lips for three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.

I'm so happy that that dirty little boy scout delivered my chocolate popcorn today. It really rounded out a superb week of eating.

Our beloved Stacey has gotten herself into an interesting little situation and has very kindly given permission for me to blog all about it. Unfortunately for you cats I'm not quite ready. I'm not sure a hundred percent what position we here at Stacey Loves Me will be taking. I pretty much get my panties all in a wad whenever Stacey purports to love anyone but me.

I've been deep in the throws of a mid life crisis for a while now and deciding that everything I have is nothing I want. In that same vein, Big Daddy and I decided very maturely and politely last week that maybe we didn't want to spend the rest of our lives together after all and as soon as the holidays are over we would split up some intermingled assets and go our separate ways. And surprisingly, we've been fucking like wild beasts ever since. So maybe we changed our minds. Maybe we didn't. Who really knows. But it's like I tell the people that pay me $150 an hour, sometimes it is just a conscious decision to sink or swim. Unfortunately, all I seem to be able to make are unconscious decisions.

Stay tuned.

PS - I promise to be funny again real soon. Even if it kills me.

Get Ready To Give Thanks

A few shots of my Thanksgiving table.

It reminded me more of a spring day in Provence than it did Thanksgiving, so I ran out to my porch and grabbed the mini pumpkins that were sitting around the base of my fall mums and threw them around. So now it looks like a fall day in Provence. (Humor me, bitches) And so what if I am expecting three times as many people as this table seats. That's neither here nor there.

My really fun friend, KT, is coming in from DC and we are planning something debaucherous for Thanksgiving night. Well, the plan has gotten as far as

Me: Hey KT, let's do something salacious Thursday night. (Salacious is my new word)

KT: I thought you'd never ask.

There's got to be one bar open on Thanksgiving, right?

Also, I've decided that my new drug addiction will be huffing grass.

I Want A New Drug

My New Years Resolution for 2007:

To become a drug addict.

A fully functioning drug addict, but a drug addict nonetheless.

And I'm looking a little past alcoholism because I just don't have the digestive system for all that.

But seriously, I want to spend at least 60% of my week high on something.

I want to go to work fucked up and giggle at everyone.

Suggestions?

Guess Who

Who just stumbled home drunk from ladies night after making all sorts of off color jokes about sleeping with the other women's husbands?

Hmmmmm, who could that be?

Also, I went ahead and bought those Uggs. But wait, that's not all. I wore my pants tucked into them today. Top that, bitches.

And just when you think you can't get any more embarrassed for me, I leave you with this, I have developed three new habits over the last couple of weeks...
1) Eating Cheerios
2) Watching Dr. Phil
3) Feverishing ordering things off of QVC

Now, go fuck yourselves.

And You Give Yourself Away

Pity Party

I guess it is time for me to finally come out of my hole and blog something. I need to put to rest the rumors that I was killed in a horrible farm equipment accident.

I took today off to attend to some very important stuff and then it all fell through at the last minute. It is a shitty, stormy day and so I'm just hiding out at my house trying to recover from the last six months. I'm thinking about locking myself in my closet for no other reason than it just seems peaceful.

I've been a miserable, horrible, insufferable bitch lately. I don't know what my problem is, but boy I'm nasty. I'm not sure how anyone can stand me. All I do is complain and whine and feel sorry for myself. I'd like to give Big Daddy some kudos, though. He's really stepped up to the plate and taken it. One day I will reward him for it.

I hate to cut this short since it has been like three weeks since I last posted, but I've got a closet that's calling my name so I've got to run. But before I go, I've got a little bit of housekeeping news.

First, it seems that the S and K relationship has run its course (again). I'm thinking (hoping) that this time is for real. It still hasn't been determined as to whether or not I'm going to end up with a roommate this go around or not.

Second, TD got engaged. Yeah, I know. He's a dumbass. But whatever.

Third and most importantly, I still love my hotties.

Cruising To The Holidays

I forgot to mention in the previous post about how the lovely and vacation-prone Jo went on a cruise right in the middle of all the moving madness. She's literally been back a week and a half and she leaves again next weekend on another cruise and will be gone the rest of the month. I wish I were joking, but I'm not. That woman has balls the size of my ego. Apparently I should have married a postman because that's where all the money and vacation time is.

I really and truly need someone to please explain the principle behind revolving doors. I hate those damn things and don't see where they serve any purpose at all. And speaking of doors...just to drive the point home of how lazy I am...I was leaving a big government type building today and stood in front of the exit doors for a good 40 seconds waiting for them to open. I just stopped in my tracks and waited patiently. As a line started forming behind me, I snapped back to consciousness and realized that I had to actually lift my arm and push on the door to get it to open. It wasn't automatic. Da fuck?

As a result of white trash family drama Big Daddy and I find ourselves all alone this fine turkey day. So in a stroke of insanity I've decided to cook a Thanksgiving feast. Since I am warm and caring and generous I went ahead and extended an invitation to all of my wayward friends and relatives in similar situations. So Thanksgiving should be interesting. I'm thinking of just getting a keg and some chicken nuggets and calling it a success.

In other holiday news, Mr. Greenlawn across the street has already started decorating his house with Christmas lights. And as far as I'm concerned he's just thrown down the holiday decorating gauntlet. He might have won the greenest-lawn-on-the-planet contest, but the most-giant-inflatable-nylon-Santas-and-Frosty-the-Snowmen-in-one-yard contest is anybody's game!

Hot Lips Wins Customer Service Award

S'up fuckers?

So, yeah. I accidentally failed to mention that I have been in the middle of a very stressful and arduous office move recently. But Friday we got all settled in (well, that's all relative, I guess) in the new place and I can kind of sort of breathe again. And while I had all of that going on, I just happened to be busier at work than I had ever been before. Coupled with the bizarro hormonal mid life crisis I've been dealing with about the impending milestone birthday that's lurking around the corner, and well, that all makes for Hot Lips becoming a lunatic. Which I know isn't a real good example because even under the best of circumstances Hot Lips is a lunatic, but she was a really, really looney lunatic. How's that?

So, yeah.

I did learn a few things from of it, though and well, when we stop learning we stop living. Or something like that. And the first and most important thing I learned was that I'm going to stop providing good customer service. Well, let me take that back. I'll happily (but too happily) continue to provide mediocre to good customer service. But the days of great customer service is over. Because, really, I obviously don't need the business.

And the days of me promptly returning a phone call are over. I've instituted a ban on any and all immediate phone call returning. From now on there will be a minimum of 24 hours between receiving the phone call and returning it. I've learned lately that if I just leave people to their own devices for a good day or so, whatever reason they were ringing my phone off the hook for somehow takes care of itself. I'm fortunate enough to be in a business where 93.8% of all of my phone calls are "emergencies." Please note the quotes around emergencies. Those are very, very important punctuational tools here. I've pretty much gotten to the point where I have pretty strict criteria for emergencies, and well, since I'm not an ER doctor, I don't know why anyone would be coming to me for one anyway.

Oh yeah, that's because all the dumb bullshit isn't really an emergency. Not to me anyway. That's why it is now my professional duty to give you a mandatory 24 hour cooling off period.

Also, I'm too nice and I do too good of a job and I make too many people my bestest friends. It is true, it is a bad, bad, bad habit I have of wherever I go making everyone my best friend, or at least making them believe that. It is the slacker in me. If everyone is my best friend then they won't mind doing this favor for me, or overlooking this one little thing for me, or telling me all the inside scoop about whatever. But somehow over the years it has all gotten turned around on me. And somehow these yokels are now trying to use their best friend status to get me to do them favors, to do shit for them fast and in a hurry and over the weekend and special and extra and cheap. And no, no, no, no, no, you are misunderstanding our friendship here. You do me favors, silly, not vice versa.

So yeah, no more favors, no more being extra friendly with people I don't give a shit about and no more returning emergency phone calls in a timely fashion.

Woopsie, somebody went off on a little tangent.

So, yeah.

In other news, I got the most perfect silk curtains for my new office.

I love you crazies.

Miss Me?

Of course you did.

Fear not my fair followers. I'm back on the attack.

Although it wasn't Atlantic City (and my wallet is thanking me) on a whim I hopped into my car and headed south for a few days. Big Daddy was kind enough to join me for one day and one night and then headed back home like a good little workaholic.

I spent a leisurely long weekend shopping and receiving spa services and watching movies in my room and eating quite a bit. But I had to cut my little escape from reality short and get back home and vote. Although I'm fairly certain it didn't do much good because apparently the separation of church and state died with the colonists.

I just ordered two 7 - foot faux Christmas trees from QVC. Oh yes I did. One for either side of my front door. Indoor/Outdoor, baby. You are never truly 100% K-Fed until you have a QVC customer number.

Tomorrow we can talk about the root cause of my stress and why it is suddenly over and what I learned from the whole god damned circus. But right now, I've got a big ass bathtub calling my name.

Like The Butterfly Emerging From The Cocoon

Today is the first day of the rest my life.

I can finally get back to living again.

I finally cleared away all this shit that has been bogging me down and making me a miserable, insufferable, pouty, tired, grumpy Hot Lips for the last two months. It all culminates with today. Technically it isn't over. But let's say around 6 p.m. EST today I'll be toasting the universe with 14 bottles of champagne.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that.

I've got big muscles. I'll piggy back all you mother fuckers.

So, yeah, I woke up this morning feeling like my old self again, and whether or not that's actually a good thing is yet to be seen, but this morning it was a good thing.

I've got the next four days off to recover from the last 8 weeks and I have half a mind to zip off to Atlantic City and gamble away all the cash I killed myself earning for the last couple of months. It makes perfect sense to me.

But I'll probably stay close to home because I have a very important engagement to attend on Saturday. Wild horses couldn't keep me away from it.

And other than that, I just want to sit around the house smoking bongs and masturbating all weekend.

S'up Fuckers?

Would the person who wandered here from Joe's blog and who apparenlty lives right down the street from me send me an e-mail to set my mind at ease so I don't have to pull a nowhere girl.

hotlipslovesyou@gmail.com
,
I'd be much obliged.