yesterday, my bro on facebook, after i whined like a little girl that he hadn't friended me, sends me a friend request that says: be my friend beeotch!
this morning as we're getting ready for work, trying to find motivation to get up and go the hubs said: i'm glad you don't have little titties (his word ladies, NOT mine); that's more toys for me to play with. and--when you aren't hacking up a lung or on your period could you wear that shirt to bed?
right now i'm saying to myself: get the fuck off of blogger and do some work dammit! it's not like you don't have two expense reports to file; six stories to write and metrics to check and phone calls to make. get to work beeotch!
sheesh--she's such a hard ass.