Oye. It's only 10 in the evening and my hang over from today's Irish-for-the-day frivolities is in full swing. The drinking was a great way to forget the stressfull shit that's been going down. Am I going to have to go through radiation or not? If I do will I get a plasti-tit? Will Sam Donaldson's eyebrows go with my snakes that are already nestled lovingly on my chest?

I'm bitch cranky. Ask my children the PinkZilla and my personal assistant your friendly neighborhood ass ooze. One day I swear I'm going barbeque my chihuahuas. Hangovers and yipyip dogs don't mix. Do parakeets go well with Shiraz? Did I mention I was cranky?

Well...Thank you Goddesses and Mike for revelling in the beginning of my left tit's last week on my body. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I loved the hootin' and hollerin'. I can't wait for next week when all those children of goddesses will converge upon my abode and tear the roof off the sucka. It'll be a blast! Just remember GDs not accustomed to loud noisy paks of chillins, that a sip of liquor never did a body harm, but it sure does git the tension the F on out of the house. Godess bless and goodnight!