Saturday, October 07, 2006

Farewell "Not Well Planned" - we will miss you

Sad news that Not Well Planned called it quits in blogdom. Here are some of my favorite excerpts of hers:
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Suppose you have a boyfriend that you’ve been dating for about ten years, who you met when you were neighbours. Suppose that, when you met this boyfriend, you were going out with another guy who happened to be Italian and have a large penis, and you talked about his penis at great length with your neighbours. (no pun intended) Because that's just the type of klassy chick you are.

And suppose your current boyfriend STILL BRINGS IT UP TEN YEARS LATER because you’re not dumb enough to reveal your other sexual exploits* and it’s all he has to go on.
Then please, join me in agreeing that it is great fun, when your boyfriend cooks you an Italian sausage for dinner, to eat it slowly and longingly, tonguing the entire length, staring dreamily into space and sighing achingly about how much you looooove Italian sausages.
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Q. How hard is it to tell your mother to ‘shut the fuck up’ while she’s lying on a gurney in the ER, topless, with EKG thingys strapped to her chest?
A. Not as hard as you might think. Pretty fucking easy, actually.
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Q. Say you're a pretty busy chick, so you buy a pre-cooked pork roast from the local grocer on your way home, meaning to eat it for dinner for the majority of the week. Say it smells so fucking good, and you're so fucking hungry, that while you're at a stoplight you decide to grab a little piece off to nibble on as you drive. Lacking a knife, this becomes difficult, but godDAMN it smells good, so you pick up the entire pork roast, raise it to your mouth, and begin tearing entire strips off that motherfucker with your teeth, revelling in the fact that each bite tastes better than the last.

Say you then turn to your left and see your boss in the next car, watching you devour this pork roast like a starving pack of dogs on a carcass. And this is the same boss who, last year, stopped beside you in a traffic jam and, unbeknownst to you, watched you lose your fucking mind singing to (and holding up an imaginary microphone too for the chorus) a large cardboard cutout of a wolf's head that you kept propped up on your dashboard. How would you feel?

A. You'd feel like a fat fucking moron who can't get enough pork.
Jesus christ I need to get my act together.
Edited to add: I should also mention that I had my windows down, and was blasting Van Halen's Running With The Devil while the pork eating occured.
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Yes, nobody out there quite like her! I will miss her wild to-the-point humor.

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