tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58322812011-04-21T17:05:03.867-04:00A Sorta, Kinda FairytaleAbout a girl who got a headache and accidentally saves the world...Bellenoreply@blogger.comBlogger761100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1160609559685017932006-10-11T19:32:00.000-04:002006-10-11T19:47:35.740-04:00She Makes Me Cry, And Not In That OHMYGODSHE'SAMERMAID!SHELIVESUNDERTHESEA!IHOPESHEGETSTHEHANDSOMEPRINCE! Kinda Way.Seriously. I hate The Little Mermaid.Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1118478526010185102005-06-11T04:15:00.000-04:002005-06-11T04:37:58.753-04:00If I Could FORRRRRGETTTTTTTTI Wouldn't Be Having This Conversation With Myself,And I Wouldn't Live In Fear Of A Potato Revolution.Ok, so, seriously? If I was Julianne Moore and everyone, and when I say everyone I mean Gary Sinise, started telling me that I was crazy and my 9 year old child never existed, that he was a figment of my imagination? I would just go with it. It wouldn't take some Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1109160554175643262005-02-23T02:07:00.000-05:002005-02-23T16:19:27.936-05:00Juicy Juice: Drink Of The Sleep DeprivedOrDid She Just Say Anus?Maybe I take my dead Presidents’ birthdays seriously, ok? I cut down a cherry tree Monday. I didn’t even have to use an axe, I just flashed my pearly, bloody, Crest-y whites at the tree and it cut itself down, baby. What? I don’t know. The latest Deathstrips symptoms include, but are not limited to, itchy toes, an Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1108097266692626032005-02-14T01:46:00.000-05:002005-02-14T07:16:47.793-05:00For A Quarter A Day You, Too, Can Help Buy Me A New Pancreas And True LoveSomeone really needs to tell Crest to add to their list of things you can do while wearing their White Deathstrips. "Shower/get ready in the morning?" Pshhaw. Watch The Bad News Bears Go to Japan at 3 a.m. because you have almost completely phased out the need for sleep thanks to the searing pain in your teeth and the Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1107950742232173692005-02-09T01:37:00.000-05:002005-02-09T07:43:03.316-05:00They Also Told Me To Drink The Special Kool-Aid,
A.K.A.
How To Win God's Smile Of Approval
So. I have decided to obey my voices. Sort of like Obeying My Thirst, only with less thirst and more voices screaming "Buy Crest Whitestrips, buy Crest Whitestrips! So what if they cause you to digest your own stomach lining, at least you will have the whitest teeth this side of Tullamore and then your Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1094997280543358852004-10-04T02:35:00.000-04:002004-10-04T04:43:23.050-04:00There Is Nothing Here About Wax Beans,
Part I
Right. So. Hi. Anyone still out there? No? Great, then I can skip the part about my delayed existential crisis involving the Olsen Twins, Lysol disinfectant, satellites falling from the sky, Grasshoppers, Dawn Penn's "You Don't Love Me" played 57 times straight and why you shouldn't ever trust a man in a white turtleneck or eat handfuls of raw Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1091761657995592492004-08-05T23:01:00.000-04:002004-08-05T23:35:12.606-04:00Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful,
Hate Me Because I Ran Over Your Dog
On My Way Out Of Town
I have deserted you again, mes petits legumes.
Either Martin Sheen has had me arrested for breaking and entering and kidnapping and holding a gun to his head, forcing him to speak to me in Latin and call me his First Lady, or, a family crisis has caused me to travel home, where the townsfolk's Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1090895329795689892004-07-27T02:12:00.000-04:002004-07-27T07:23:32.716-04:00So I Killed A Pop Star,
And How Life Looks Brighter When You're Driving
The Glitter Mobile
With Ronald McDonald & Friends In The Back Seat
I have to tell you, for a while there I was certain all the forces of evil were working against me. I mean, how many spilled cups of coffee can I take and how many post cards from happy, successful men who once called me the "C" word can I get before I Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1088468645595078322004-07-22T23:24:00.000-04:002004-07-23T05:52:20.896-04:00The Alien Baby Douche Post of DOOM
My brother just called me because he had a premonition that I was pregnant. What? Good thing I've only had sex while standing on my head, wearing a monkey mask, and humming Celine Dion songs this month and I'm pretty sure I remember from Changing Bodies, Changing Lives that you can't get pregnant that way. Umm. Yeah. So. I told my brother that I had also Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1087910224898522832004-06-22T08:26:00.000-04:002004-06-22T09:19:12.046-04:00Honor Thy Father
But Try Not To End Up Picking Apples
With Tobey Maguire Probing Your Hoo-Hoo
It's not you, it's me. Me and my fuzzy monkey mask of doom!
So. I've learned the hard way that you can only be "sick" for so many holidays/family events before your entire family insists on coming to your house to take your temperature rectally with a turkey baster, so I drove home for Father's Day Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1085658304191279592004-06-01T01:09:00.000-04:002004-06-01T06:19:18.326-04:00If Teddy Ruxpin Is The Anti-Christ,
What Does That Make Ted Danson?
Hi, I watch Joan of Arcadia, therefore I'm a practicing Christian.
Well. In My World, anyway. In My World Jesus makes the popcorn and we watch Joan of Arcadia together. Naked.
Umm. Point? No. Thanks for playing, please try again.
Oh, while I'm on the subject of religion (another line I use to pick up boys outside CVS), Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1084191997874390592004-05-10T01:29:00.000-04:002004-05-10T08:38:28.880-04:00All I'm Saying Is
If You're Not Going To Wear Pants,
Why Bother Wearing A Jacket And Tie?
Well I don't know about you, but I had the best weekend I've had in years. Or at least since last weekend when I cleaned the litter box and watched 22 consecutive episodes of some TV show, one of those shows with the names. You know, like Felicity or Drew Carey or Oprah or Dr. Phil. Yes, there was Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1083148253935151592004-04-28T00:56:00.000-04:002004-04-28T07:27:17.716-04:00Sometimes When I Don't Sleep For Days,
I Start To Hallucinate Elephants And William H. Macy
Ok. Well, yeah, I've been missing in action, but really, there was no need for you to seek solace in drugs or alcohol or barnyard animal sex. Oh yes, folks, that's right; I know what you've been doing. Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't see you. Everyday my super hero powers get a Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1081853106565268502004-04-13T07:01:00.000-04:002004-04-13T14:02:51.483-04:00The Magic 8 Ball Says "Outlook Not Good,"
Which Translates Loosely To
"Your Retinas Will Burst Into Flames"
5 Things You Didn't Catch Me Doing Over The Weekend
And Not Just Because I Was In Jail, Like Last Time
1. Roasting a pig on a stick in my front yard. Or partaking in any pig-on-a-stick roasting in anyone's front or back yard. Or partaking in any human sacrifices at the altar of the Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1081505726951639672004-04-09T06:50:00.000-04:002004-04-09T07:02:56.216-04:00This Is Sort Of Like That Time I Didn't Pay My Pimp
And Winnie The Pooh Repossessed My Soul
(Only With Less Honey)
If my life was a movie, at this time it would be a slightly more psychotic version of Being John Malkovich with me as John Malkovich, and weirdly enough, Sarah Jessica Parker playing the role of EVERYONE ELSE, including the monkey.
So yeah, I'm afraid, and you should be afraid for Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1080301747742340862004-03-26T06:32:00.000-05:002004-03-26T06:55:17.076-05:00God Stained My Carpet Blue,
And He Probably Helped The Monkeys Steal My Voice, Too
I haven't been posting because I found God.
In an alley behind CVS.
Any more information would be a direct violation of the Confidentiality Agreement they made me sign. They? Yeah, they.
And there's really nothing else I can say until God and his Apostles pack up their traveling alley circus and head for Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1079944832615285562004-03-22T01:39:00.000-05:002004-03-22T06:37:58.280-05:00My Real Name Is Mephistopheles
But You Can Call Me Baby
I have about fifty-six million, one hundred and eighty-two thousand things I need to be doing. Things I could be doing. Things I should be doing. Things like sleeping or eating or saving the world or figuring out how to hook up my VCR, DVD player, and cable box so that they all work instead of just one working while the other two stare Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1079588185486058182004-03-17T23:59:00.000-05:002004-03-18T02:51:22.796-05:00Because It Just Isn't A Holiday
With Out Green Toilet Water And A Venereal Disease
I have nothing today. I'm empty. Dry. A mere shell of a taco. Whatever.
I did write this long St. Patrick's Day post, it went something like this: Blah blah blah dressing cats in little shamrock costumes, blah blah blah green food coloring in the toilet bowl, blah blah blah rainbow with a pot of syphilis Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1079067315561607722004-03-15T01:33:00.000-05:002004-03-15T05:20:52.186-05:00Sometimes I See Scott Wolf's Face In My Spaghettios.
Sometimes It Tells Me To Kill People.
And I Think I Just Realized My Mom Is Rain Man.
What's New With You?
Last night I dreamt I was on 20/20 to promote my new movie Career Opportunities: Part Deux and Barbara Walters somehow managed to twist the interview so I ended up confessing to getting a "D" in a Food and People class in college. Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1078899264582381662004-03-10T00:49:00.000-05:002004-03-10T03:27:43.826-05:00Dear Scott Baio,
You Owe Me $28,412 In Alimony And Emotional Damages,
One Bottle Of Tylenol, And An Umbrella. Thanks.
1. I have decided to devote my life to the study of water resistance and humans.
2. I want to change my name to Peppermint. Or Lima.
Or maybe I just want to build a fall-out shelter out of lima beans and peppermints because that's what the dead people I see walking Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1078817201355863152004-03-09T01:37:00.000-05:002004-03-09T02:58:24.123-05:00
Monkeys need sleep, too, you know. Otherwise they will die horrible, sad little monkey sleep-deprived deaths and then come back and haunt you with their little monkey souls for all eternity.
Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-107830252427708742004-03-03T01:24:00.000-05:002004-03-03T05:44:06.686-05:00Take Me To Your Troop Leader
I still have nothing to say. Except. I'm pretty sure it's raining nickels, I've got Sunshine In A Box (Oh how I love thee, Girl Scouts. And not in the "Helloooo my pretty little uniform-wearing girl, come sit in mommy's lap" kinda way either. That love is reserved for Boy Scouts. This is a clean, pure love. Not unlike the love I feel for Lifetime Television Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1078126588726079262004-03-01T00:19:00.000-05:002004-03-01T06:12:52.653-05:00It's About Damn Time, March
And When I Say Friend I Mean The Voice In My Head
I really have nothing to write home about, I just wanted to get rid of that goddamn Winnie the Pooh post before A.A. Milne came back from the dead to sue me/take me back to hell with him/ask to be my baby's daddy, and before I vomited Winnie the Pooh bits all over the place. Yeah, that would stain.
And speaking of Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1077610877124492742004-02-25T03:21:00.000-05:002004-02-25T05:51:01.543-05:00As Long As Charlie Brown Lives In My Head I'm Not Alone,
But Seriously, Is It Just Me, Or
1. Does everyone imagine their Top 5 Most Played Songs on their iPods duking it out with each other for the coveted #1 spot in a style that can only be described as reminiscent of MTV's Celebrity Death Match? In my head Marvin Gaye is all "Let's Get It On, b#tch!" while Yoshimi battles not the Pink RobotsBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1077523327845083212004-02-23T01:21:00.000-05:002004-02-23T04:21:29.623-05:00Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Straightjacket
Goodnight Man Standing Over My Bed With A Hatchet
I couldn't sleep last night. Pretty Normal, right? I tried and tried. I counted sheep, I counted monkeys, I counted the number of people whose bare feet I've seen, but, alas (Enter abnormality), one thing and one thing only kept popping into my head and making me giggle like An Insomniac On Crack, the Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1077274613682559572004-02-20T06:06:00.000-05:002004-02-20T06:11:12.436-05:00True Friends Don't Just Say 'Goodnight,'
They Say 'Goodnight, Try Not To Get A Concussion
On Your Way To Bed'
Was that a dream or did Stephanie Tanner really call Kimmy Gibbler a whore last night On A Very Special Full House? Somebody pinch me. I think this is what happens when you fall asleep to the Weather Channel after eating the other half of the bag of Twizzlers in a panic over whether Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1077017286411093562004-02-17T01:27:00.000-05:002004-02-17T15:00:22.610-05:00Don't Hate Me Because I'm Delusional Beautiful
But you should definitely hate me. And in case you're having trouble thinking of reasons, let me make it easy for you.
5 Reasons To Hate Me
From The Depths Of Your Soul To The Hairs In Your Nose
1. I sorta, kinda like the new Janet Jackson song. I know, I know, it's sick and you should lock me up and throw away the key. I talked it over with Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1076921642918112632004-02-16T01:12:00.000-05:002004-02-16T04:11:59.810-05:00You Tell Me To Eat Lima Beans, I'll Eat Lima Beans
(Because Friends Can Tell Each Other Anything
If They Have Their 'Friends' Hats On)
Valentine's Day is over. And I had a good day. A good weekend. I was able to get away, I didn't break any bones or internal organs, I ate two kinds of snowballs and one of them just because it was pink, I finally figured out the elusive password that would Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1076668670478647452004-02-13T05:40:00.000-05:002004-02-13T05:43:10.170-05:00Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown,
Or I Will Put On A Hockey Mask And Kill You
Hi.
I'm incapable of washing my hair with out getting shampoo in my eyes and I just learned that Beethoven's favorite meal was macaroni and cheese (It must be true, I read it on my paper towels!).
That is all.
Oh, and Happy Friday the 13th. May none of you get chopped up into tiny pieces by Jason Voorhees, or JasonBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1076557744545213892004-02-11T20:39:00.000-05:002004-02-11T23:16:19.733-05:00The Day A House Fell On Betty Crocker
And Idaho Rejoiced, As Told By Me
Did I ever tell you about the time I was driving down a dark, twisting stretch of highway with my friends Freddie Prinze Jr., Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Ryan Phillippe after partying on the beach, hit a man and presumably killed him only to have him actually live (!) and come back to stalk us all a year later, killing off Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1076298131778291452004-02-09T01:22:00.000-05:002004-02-09T04:25:27.170-05:00Do You Like Bears,
And Do You Really Want To Make Me Cry?
(I'll Take 'Questions I Might Ask February
If February Came For Tea' For $500, Alex)
I've decided that in order to overcome this February From Hell, one of the following must occur:
1. I must demolish all buildings in my neighborhood and build a baseball field. Because if I build it, they will come. And by they I mean The Angels Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1075791113095808672004-02-03T05:45:00.000-05:002004-02-03T05:49:08.216-05:00Never Trust A Naked Bus Driver,
Even If He's Your Baby's Daddy
I'm in a funk. A February Funk. Wil Wheaton won't acknowledge that he's my baby's daddy, my monkey is sick, I have a feeling there were tiny shards of glass in my orange juice that are probably cutting up my vital organs right this very instant, last night I dreamt that I had been chosen to head up NASA's mission to Pluto, but Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1075454398504593792004-01-30T01:18:00.000-05:002004-01-30T04:34:51.903-05:00 Distance Makes The Soul Grow Fonder,
Or Something Like That
Is it ok that I dropped my late dinner of blueberry muffin crumbs and diet cherry coke all over my keyboard just now? I should probably be asking my keyboard that, but I am so not in the mood for his holier than thou attitude, so just tell me, is it ok? I mean, really? Everything still seems to be functioning, I haven't seen any Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1075096417199900492004-01-25T23:36:00.000-05:002004-01-26T00:58:24.483-05:00This Is Your Brain.
This Is Your Brain In A Tutu Screaming
'Don't Do It, Neve, Don't'
Any Questions?
So tonight, as I was opening Christmas presents (yes, I know it's January, but it's also January twenty fifth, and why should Christmas just be in December? I know what you're thinking, Christ's birthday, yada yada yada, well I'm sure Christ would want me to have presents on the 25th of every Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1074722826914291622004-01-21T17:07:00.000-05:002004-01-21T20:55:05.826-05:00I Had A Pet Turtle Once. His Name Was Buddy.
He Really Liked Watching Charles In Charge.
So I Fed-Exed Him To Scott Baio.
I'm baaaaack. Well technically I've been back since Monday, but I've lost almost all my will to live blog, so, well, I haven't been posting. But here I am. In good old freezing cold New Hampshire. Where a Cherry Coke is a Cherry Coke, Wal-Mart is just a store and notBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073979776671461202004-01-13T01:22:00.000-05:002004-01-13T05:20:56.013-05:005 Signs You Are Having A Really Bad Day,
In Case The Bomb Strapped To Your Cat's Back Didn't Give It Away
1. It started last year and shows no signs of ending any time soon. Or at least not until Martin Sheen is sitting in the oval office and Bradley Whitford is his deputy chief of staff, and I'm his lovely non-vowel-turning assistant who he occasionally has sex with while saying things like "Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073900001614469032004-01-12T01:31:00.000-05:002004-01-12T04:37:15.340-05:00Heyyyy, Youuuu Guyyyyys!
The Goonies III: The Apocalypse, Starring Martin Sheen,
Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You
Ok. I can't kid a kidder. Or kidderS. Or Kimmy Gibbler. I was going to post a break down of my weekend. A sort of Day In The Life Of Me for the few of you that aren't already peeping in my window/hiding in the backseat of my car listening to me sing horrid Whitney Houston Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073645976835619032004-01-09T06:20:00.000-05:002004-01-09T06:31:17.856-05:00If I Had A Goat I Would Name It Whitney Houston,
And Then I Would Beat It For Being A Crack Whore,
But That's Just Me
Well, it's like this. I know you're bored with me. I'm bored with me, too. I tried to talk me into doing something exciting like taking up hang-gliding or having sex with multiple partners while the panda that lives upstairs videotaped or carving gnomes out of wood or going Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073293079080240912004-01-05T01:56:00.000-05:002004-01-05T17:53:49.623-05:00Tell Me, Tell Me That Your Sweet Love Hasn't Died
(Well They Are Smart Socks)
I think I ate a rotten potato. But I can't be sure. I have no symptoms, and it looked like a normal potato, but if I was a rotten potato I would disguise myself as a normal potato, too. Or maybe even as a normal human being. Ok, now I'm going to spend the night wondering who among those I know is really a rotten Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073205643067702702004-01-04T03:40:00.000-05:002004-01-04T03:44:20.733-05:00Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!
Seriously.
Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1073107507795134932004-01-03T00:30:00.000-05:002004-01-03T00:31:26.483-05:00Who Cares What Snoopy Thinks,
It's My Birthday And I'll Cry If I Want To
You Would, Too, If Brooke Shields Was Your Mom
Tell me if any of this is normal. I mean, I know it's not normal, I just want to know if I should put up a fight when the men come for me with my very own perfectly tailored white coat or if I should call and reserve a private, padded cell now.
1. Sometimes I hear voices.Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1072872081076990062003-12-31T07:21:00.000-05:002003-12-31T14:21:23.890-05:00Three Shopping Days Left,
My Mind Is More Beautiful Than Russell Crowe's,
And I'm Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady, I'll Have You Know
1. When I was in fourth grade one of my friend's older brothers liked me. Liked me, liked me. I didn't figure it out until I was at my friend's house hanging out and he asked her to go get something in the other room. He used this opportunity to shut the doorBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1072760684474932932003-12-30T00:04:00.000-05:002003-12-30T00:37:24.966-05:00Why Am I So F@#king Stupid,
And Happy New Year To You, Too, My Little Mad Cows
I was supposed to be a New Year's baby. But I didn't want to come out. I firmly placed my unborn baby feet on either side of my mother's uterus and refused to budge unless certain demands were met. I won't get into those demands here other than to say they involved magic powers, fat crayons, a pony, and an outfit Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1071207067769769192003-12-12T00:31:00.000-05:002003-12-12T00:49:02.530-05:00Burn In Hell, Amazon.com
And So What If I Am Hot For Josh Lyman
4 Things And Only 4 Things And Then I'll Leave You Alone
1. I think I have reverse carbon monoxide poisoning and one of the symptoms is breaking down in tears while watching every single episode of The West Wing on Bravo and that's a whole lot of West Wing and a whole lot of tears and yes, some of them are tears of joy, but some Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1071120445288060822003-12-11T00:27:00.000-05:002003-12-11T00:42:06.246-05:00Bobby Hit Whitney Again And I Don't Like Peaches
I have a problem. I know, you're probably thinking no f@#king kidding crazy girl, but this is a different kind of problem. And I swear there will be no mention here of that movie with that actress and her kid who knows how much that body part on top of your shoulders weighs and likes going to that place you go to see the animals in cages.
MyBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1071036304003559812003-12-10T01:05:00.000-05:002003-12-10T03:10:39.326-05:00Choose Your My Own Adventure
I realized coming out of Wal-Mart tonight that I have a deep-rooted paranoia that somebody is going to abduct me. You see, I believe it all started when I was a wee lass, when mommy and daddy used to drive me to a populated area and then take off. They said it was to "hone my survival skills", but doctor, and you'd better be my doctor because if you're not why am IBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1070941430605215322003-12-09T00:43:00.000-05:002003-12-14T22:22:08.966-05:00Any Resemblance To Renee Zellweger's Son,
Living Or Dead,
Is Unintentional And Purely Coincidental
I know, I know, you were hoping I wouldn't update for like another 10 years so as to give you time to absorb the full flavor of my last post and maybe, I don't know, seek some therapy to help you deal with what you read, but sorry! I had to do it. I've made a potentially life altering decision.Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1070876031844624042003-12-08T01:33:00.000-05:002003-12-08T13:42:12.763-05:00Of Course When I Say You, I Mean Me
(Except For When I Mean You)
Snow makes you do funny things. Especially when you eat it and it's yellow and then you realize Hey! That's not snow, it's Renee Zellweger's son's little, blonde, dead head! No, I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm hours away from going Kathy Bates In Misery crazy, and I blame it all on the snow. Well, the snow and my Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1070614127056898192003-12-05T01:28:00.000-05:002003-12-05T04:57:55.436-05:00Things Have Changed, Morals Have Been Sacrificed,
And Almost Still Doesn't Count
I made this list a long time ago. The thing about lists like this is the whole "Never Say Never" thing. Excuses get made, lines get blurred, and the next thing you know you're Sleeping with your Biopsychology Professor to get a better grade/Selling your brother's baby on the black market/Splicing into your Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1070521619675319912003-12-04T01:06:00.000-05:002003-12-04T02:39:27.466-05:00Do You Want This Jacket? I Don't Need It. I'm Cloaked In Failure!
(Alternatively Titled: I Promise Never To Watch It Again)
Well you see, it's like this. Everything was going along just fine; Hellvember was becoming a distant memory, December was living up to the promise of being The December Movies Are Made Of (And by movies I mean Lesbian Anime Porn with a Heterosexual Non-Anime Twist and a Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1070150735496796372003-11-29T18:48:00.000-05:002003-11-29T22:40:52.733-05:00I Always Wanted To Be A Camp Counselor
Ok, let's put this whole sordid Day Of bitter relatives, emotional blackmail, and turkey Thanks behind us, shall we? I would like to state for the record that I only heard the creepy music from Friday the 13th (ki, ki, ki...ma, ma, ma) a few hundred times instead of the constant loop it usually plays in my head when relatives get too close. You may be Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1069901785712695422003-11-26T21:56:00.000-05:002003-11-27T06:12:14.810-05:00Happy Thanksgiving (If You're Into That Sort Of Thing)
Whatever you do, do not, I repeat do not, go to the grocery store tonight. You will be trampled to death by people who accidentally ate their turkey last week/forgot the cranberry sauce/forgot it was Thanksgiving tomorrow/are just trying to get away from their in-laws for 5 minutes/will burst into tears when they realize the store is sold Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1069690453088759702003-11-24T23:09:00.000-05:002003-11-25T04:15:04.233-05:00A, E, I, O, U, And Sometimes Why
How does that saying go, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no whys"? Ok, maybe not, but let's pretend it does, you know you want to.
1. Why does my car only make that noise when I am alone in it, and not when I bring it in to the mechanic, thus causing him to think I'm completely off my rocker and/or making a desperate plea for attention because Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1069394954177768722003-11-21T01:09:00.000-05:002003-11-21T01:27:34.123-05:00Monkeys Are People, Too
Ok, the zoo was closed. Actually there is no zoo around here. There used to be a "Wild Animal Farm" where I never met an ostrich or llama I didn't like. But they tore that down, something about my parents smuggling illegal animals over the border. Whatever. Two words: Wrongly Accused. But it's a tough case when it's you against 17 angry monkeys (my parents didn't Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1069381899208040462003-11-20T21:31:00.000-05:002003-11-20T21:34:10.763-05:00Gone to the zoo. Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1069149153393093782003-11-18T01:24:00.000-05:002003-11-18T05:26:19.123-05:00I Don't Really Own A Blow Dryer, But I Swear On Lucky's Life Everything Else Is True
By now you may have heard the rumors. No, not the ones about me and the guys from Cake. And no, not the ones about me cloning Lucky (of Lucky Charms fame). Those have all been grossly exaggerated. It's the other potentially sleep-depriving rumors I feel I should clear up for you.
The Myth: I'm stalking Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068890630658672612003-11-15T03:17:00.000-05:002003-11-15T05:07:26.810-05:00Please Shoot Me
Hypothetically speaking, wouldn't it really suck if say, you were just about to drift off to sleep and the scene from Beverly Hills, 90210 where Donna (a.k.a. Tori Spelling, but really, who cares) get de-virginized by David (a.k.a. Brian Austin Green who apparently now goes by just Brian Green but who will probably be going by Brian Cougar Mellencamp Green by next week) popped Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068793562733747832003-11-14T01:06:00.000-05:002003-11-14T07:15:00.340-05:00Oatmeal Is The Devil's Breakfast And This Is Why I Need An Intervention
You know how I was yearning for a drug addiction?
You know how they say "Be careful what you wish for"?
Yeah. I think I've become physically and emotionally dependent on eye drops. Not crack, or crank, or meth, or whatever drug it is you're on that makes you read this nonsense. Visine. I started using (is it horriblyBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068611225197548092003-11-11T23:27:00.000-05:002003-11-11T23:42:05.733-05:00Things I did not spend the day obsessing over.
Nope, not me, not at all.
1. The local adult movie (or as you may know it, PORN) rental place here is called "The Fifth Wheel". I did not spend all day wondering if there is more to the name, if it is some obscure sexual reference that I don't understand, and it most certainly was not bothering me so much that I googled it when I got home.Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068456151572117892003-11-10T01:17:00.000-05:002003-11-10T04:37:40.343-05:00The Almost Post
I went to the mall yesterday. I realize the mall to some people is a sacred, holy place for buying sacred, holy things such as shoes and prom dresses and guns, or whatever you wacky people are buying. I am not one of these people. Driving home from the mall I started to think about how I wish I could medicate people at my own discretion. I mean how wonderful would it be to Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068279446595874522003-11-08T02:12:00.000-05:002003-11-08T03:19:54.553-05:00Now Accepting Applications
Duties would include, but are not limited to, accepting blame for everything that has gone wrong in my life. Ever.
No experience necessary.
Leave your qualifications below and I'll call you to set up an interview.
Equal Opportunity Employer.
Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068196421643370572003-11-07T00:09:00.000-05:002003-11-12T22:14:34.866-05:00I Know You Want Me (To Adopt You), Don't Fight It
I want to start off by saying, because this just isn't said enough, I so wish I had thought of naming my band The Smashing Pumpkins before you know, they did. If I had a band, that is. And I really think having a band would help with my desire for a drug problem so maybe I'm on to something here. I could be the free-basing guitarist. Except IBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1068106337512057132003-11-06T00:12:00.000-05:002003-11-06T03:21:05.296-05:00Today Is The Greatest Day (And Other Lies To Get You Through The Day)
Elvis is alive. I saw him with my very own eyes last night. He even spoke to me. Words I shall never forget. He said "your movie is due back by 9pm tomorrow".
It's perfectly acceptable to forget a friend's birthday. He/She will realize you have things of importance too numerous to count on your mind and call you silly Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1067403974321642092003-10-29T00:03:00.000-05:002003-10-29T00:09:27.306-05:00I Only Wish My Name Was Whitney And I Had A Drug Problem
The other night I got into my car, put the key in the ignition and it blew up. No, I'm kidding (I know you were concerned, you probably had one hand on the phone getting ready to call me/911/moviefone to see if I'm ok and/or when that new Kevin Bacon movie is coming to a theatre near you. Well rest assured, I am fine/there IS no new KevinBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1067328489636320062003-10-28T00:08:00.000-05:002003-10-28T03:20:17.123-05:00To Whom It May Concern,
I can not come out to play today. I am too busy snorting shampoo (Yeah, most people just wash their hair with it. Not me. I like to snort it. And by snort I mean not just smell, I mean consume nasally. Especially when I'm in a store and probably on camera and there are people around and they're all like 'what the hell is wrong with that girl')/trying to bring down Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1067235304571934762003-10-26T23:46:00.000-05:002003-10-27T01:28:43.660-05:00This is the end, friend!
I loved Strawberry Shortcake. I did. But this! This is downright frightening. It looks like a cross between Strawberry Shortcake and that Chucky doll from "Child's Play". Apparently it even says "Who's your favorite friend?" which is a little too reminiscent of Chucky's "We're friends 'til the end" for my liking. But. It could also just be that I have a headache Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1066633983481552902003-10-19T23:51:00.000-04:002003-10-20T03:40:33.830-04:00Because Peanut Butter Is That Good
I was walking out to my car the other day and heard people screaming. I reached my car (the direction from which the screaming was coming) and saw my next door neighbors at their car. My neighbors are an elderly man and his handicapped wife, the most harmless people, so I thought it odd that they were yelling. The man was walking away from the car and the Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1066116617126154342003-10-13T23:56:00.000-04:002003-10-14T05:31:58.136-04:00We Couldn't All Be Cowboys So Some Of Us Are Clowns And Some Of Us Are Dancers On The Midway (And Some Of Us Are Paranoid Schizophrenics)
I fell while walking out of the grocery store today. One could say I was wearing shoes that were too high. One could say that I am lacking in the graceful department. One would be right, only not.
It's more likely that this was the work of the MOLE. DoesBellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065748151361943372003-10-09T21:09:00.000-04:002003-10-10T00:42:23.073-04:00Don't Cry Over Used Milk
So I was watching "Charmed" early the other evening. Yeah, I just admitted that. One of my dear, dear friends is always telling me I need to "accept" my dorkiness. So this is me accepting it. Sometimes, when I'm tired after work and want to take a nap on the sofa I put "Charmed" on (she says while blushing uncontrollably). Anyway. In this particular episode the Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065648261636804842003-10-08T17:24:00.000-04:002003-10-08T20:49:35.730-04:00A Dear John Letter, Only Not
Dear California,
I used to want to live there. I used to want to bask in your sunlight and drink the sweet, sweet nectar of your oranges. Oh wait, that might have been Florida. Anyway. I used to want to walk along your sandy beaches and dream not of California Girls, but of California BOYS. I used to want to rollerblade along Venice Beach, even though I didn't Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065497142300309122003-10-06T23:25:00.000-04:002003-10-06T23:27:18.443-04:00Sarah Lee Guys Should Not Stalk Star Wars Geeks At The Grocery Store
This has nothing to do with Sarah Lee guys or Star Wars geeks or the grocery store. But my dear friend SnowWhite* was accosted at the grocery store by a Sarah Lee guy, so. Yeah.
Anyway.
This Just In: Dunkin Donuts now has lattes and cappucino. I'll take "Things that Disturb Me" for $400, Alex. (Why the hell isn't that Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065392643370443522003-10-05T18:24:00.000-04:002003-10-05T18:25:29.636-04:00I Don't Sleep, I Dream
So the Space Program offered me the opportunity to be an astronaut. They said I would be gone for 11 years though. I was like, wow, 11 years, everything will have changed. And they said well it's either this or a stint as Mayor of New York. So I said ok, space sounds like fun.
And then I woke up. Someone was pounding on my door. And it wasn't the damn Space Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065309908267244252003-10-04T19:25:00.000-04:002003-10-04T19:29:56.580-04:00Apparently it's National Drive Like You're Hopped Up On Crank Day (yes, I said crank. If you're gonna be hopped up on something you gotta do it do right). Here I am cruising along in my sensible Toyota rocking out to The Bee Gees "How Deep Is Your Love" (hey, it was on the radio, ok? It's not like I was playing the CD. Or that I own it or anything like that. yeah. cause I don't. so.), Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1065215363788289412003-10-03T17:09:00.000-04:002003-10-03T17:13:50.536-04:00I love cats. This is why I have two of them. But I have limits. I like good cats. I do NOT like Satan's Spawn Cat that lives in the wilderness in back of my house. I'm not sure if it was the time he brought a half dead, half crying bird to my doorstep, or the time he climbed up my screen and tore it to hell with his demonic claws, but somewhere along the line I just decided this cat is not Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1064290042837599122003-09-23T00:07:00.000-04:002003-09-23T00:12:08.956-04:00
Dear Friendly Folks who make Fruit Loops Flavored Frozen Waffles,
I recently saw a woman in the supermarket buying your product for her child. It was all I could do not to slap the box out of her hand. I understand you have a business to run and a market to corner, but some things? Just don't belong together. And this is one of them.
You want Fruit Loops flavor? Eat Fruit Bellenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5832281.post-1064009099885850842003-09-19T18:04:00.000-04:002003-09-20T00:12:18.820-04:00I don't ask for much. Ok, maybe I do. But still. All I want is a song, people. I want a song written for ME. Is that too much to ask for? No? I didn't think so. And yet. There is no song.
So. I've compiled a list of songs I wish were written for me. So anyone who, say, wishes to write me a song, can get the idea. Or something.
Songs that should have been written for me, but Bellenoreply@blogger.com