Fromthehipchick

How to Have A Meltdown

Fromthehipchick — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 18:52:23 GMT

Hola bitches. and Gentleman, in the event that Postal decided we're all more entertaining than we are crazy, and stuck around. I'm making a special appearance today in honor of the fact that I turned 25 last week - and I wanted to share with you, that if you're going to celebrate a milestone birthday, there is no better way to do it than with a monumental-shit hitting the fan-heart palpitating-speed talking-batshit crazy meltdown. A la...me.

See, one particularly lovely friend (asshole), thought it would be smart to tell me that at the tender age of ONE-QAURTER CENTURY, all that I had remaining to look forward to – was marriage and children. This little nugget of wisdom was the rough equivalent of well-placed punch in the mouth. 25 years old, and I’m pretty sure that I had my first instantaneous hot flash. I tried to imagine myself chasing 2 kids around my fictional backyard and cooking dinner at night for my wonderful husband (yes, I live in fantasy world conveniently enveloped in a white picket fence) … and here is what happened next.

I decided to tell anyone who would listen (which included the boyfriend, family, extended family, friends and the random bartender) that I was no longer sure I wanted to live in Philadelphia. I wanted to move. To Florida. And before Florida, I wanted to quit my job and go travel around Greece and Italy for a while. That could be before or after I travel to New Orleans to help rebuild stuff. And maybe stall any wedding or babies for another 10 years. Or maybe skip babies and adopt. (Who am I, Angelina? I collect Louboutins, not Ethiopians) And take 15 vacations. And die my hair for the 35,000^th time. And lose 10 more pounds. Also, I wanted to try swimming with sharks, bungee jumping and possibly heroin. Ok, not heroin, but I needed something extreme to end that sentence. I capped that off by going out shopping and spent entirely too much money on dresses and shoes.

I imagine that I looked something like a deer caught in headlights. Only crazier. And with a penchant for heavy breathing and disarrayed pacing. Everyone got a good laugh out of me – and the rest became concerned for my wellbeing, lest I run should off to Mexico and begin an affair with a cartel leader of some sort. My girlfriends empathized and told me stories of their own meltdowns at certain birthdays. The guys looked at me like I was a patient who’d been released a few hours to early from the psych ward. It was a sight to behold, really.

Cut to a week later. Here’s what I’ve figured out. 1) I’m a hot mess. This is fine with me. I’m a female and the fact that I have a vagina pretty much entitles me to have an emotional implosion anytime I feel like it. 2) That silly sounding list that I rambled off like a deprived meth addict - isn’t that silly. I WANT to move to Florida someday. I WANT to go to Italy and Greece. I WANT to be a part of something bigger than just myself and help other people. I WANT to dance on tables still, and have my girls’ nights, and still come home to someone who thinks I’m sexy in sweatpants! And DAMNIT I WANT TO SWIM WITH SHARKS!

It probably didn’t require a panic attack of epic proportions. I can do all of these things if I want (maybe not the stalling marriage and kids 10 years, I’m not cut out to have to lose baby weight at 35). It probably didn’t even require a mini-meltdown. A few mojitos and a couple shots probably would have done the trick (FYI, they did. On a Monday night. My coworkers love the smell of leftover rum on Tuesday mornings). BUT, the fact remains - I want an adventure. And regardless of who joins me for the ride or where I end up – I’m going to have it. So cheers to 25 – I’m going to embrace it with class... by class I mean a bottle of wine and some Prozac.

Take care strangers, xoxo

The Downside of Motherhood

Fromthehipchick — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 01:02:44 GMT

Let's get one thing perfectly clear before I start. I have not, nor do I plan on, deporting anything that remotely resembles a tinier version of Yoda out of the country known as Vagine anytime soon. I love babies, really I do. I am also completely unprepared for the inevitable punishment that will be inflicted upon me when my wisecrackingtakenoprisonersilldoandsayasiplease ass mates with my espn24/7ilovefantasyfootballandcraftbrewbeer boyfriend. I am already aware that Bossman upstairs is planning on sending me some unholy devil spawn that will laugh when I tell it to do chores and steal money from my wallet when I'm not looking. Also, I refer to my primevil unborn as an it, which should serve as an indication of my lacking preparedness for child rearing. Clearly.

However, I am the loving (if not, neurotic) mother to a 1 year old lab/husky mix heroically rescued by the boyfriend and I last year. Yes, I said heroically. I have an ego, sue me. He's 85 fluffy white pounds of sweetness, love, smarts and definite personality. Unfortunately because I am exactly the kind of person that I explain myself to be in the paragraph above, the following took place today.

My dog threw up on my carpet. Twice. He dragged my sorry butt all over the complex like a rag doll so that I was sweating like a whore in church... in my work clothes. He pissed off a fracking blue jay somehow, which then proceeded to chase us across a hill, divebombing MY head! Um Hi? Mr. BlueJay? Sorry my dog pissed you off, but if you want to take it out on something, maybe it could be his ass and not my scalp, k? Thanks. Go ahead - picture me sprinting across the hillside flailing and yelling (see also, the Bee Incident.), ducking for cover from a friggin bird, while my dog jumps around trying to catch said bird like a junkie who's watching a bag of crack being waved in front of his face. Also, he tore open his dog beg, ate the zipper that had previously held it shut, ripped all the stuffing out and left it on the carpet for me to pick up.

And I? I will still snuggle with him and give him kisses before bed. Because just like any good mother, I am exactly the sucker that he thinks I am. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my son. Thank You, and Good Night.

My Bad

Fromthehipchick — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 20:47:40 GMT

dawned on me today that i haven't really posted anything since i last told everyone to either shut up or grow up. or both.

figured i'd touch base with an update - i'm still reading. or at least trying to. i'm not commenting much - honestly, i either don't have anything to add, or don't feel like it anymore. but i'm really not writing - i'm gonna put it out there and say that after the last few weeks of my life being so crazy busy and really, with all of the ridiculousness that's transpired, i'm kinda over PNN right now.

you're all lovely and great and kick-ass if your own ways. and like i said, i'm not totally gone. i'm just not totally here right now... not into it.

offhand - message me for my email and i'll add you to my mailing list of absurd daily thoughts that i send my friends just to keep my own head from spinning while i'm at work. that's about as involved as i can manage.

be well. peace.

Dear Everyone, Knock It The Eff Off.

Fromthehipchick — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 17:02:42 GMT

Hi, just an open letter to everyone here in our little circle of PNN friends. Knock it the fuck off, k? I'm sort of exhausted with logging on to this site and seeing people in the midst of verbal sparring matches on every other post I log in to read. I don't think it's cool to write a post about someone else in a negative fashion for others to have the opportunity to read and throw their 2 cents in on. I don't think it's cool to talk about someone who isn't there to defend themselves. I don't think it's cool to use someone's name in a negative way without their permission. I don't think it's cool to fight on the computer, period. Disagreeing and debates, we can handle these things. But outright fighting and insulting? NOT SO MUCH. We're grown ups - if we have an issue, have a chat. In private. Where everyone on PNN doesn't have to listen to you whine, cry, bitch, moan and insult everything under the sun. Shit, I've been guilty of it in the past - but I know where to draw a line and where to take a high road now. Give it a shot - it's a hell of a lot easier than drawing your own interpretation of someone's typed words and then play an argument out between two sparkly, happy looking avatars.

I've seen it happen in like 30 places in the last 3 days. If you don't have anything nice to say, then shut up. If you don't like someone, don't read their crap. Or read it and don't comment on it. And for the love of god - can we please stop talking about how "adult" we are in the middle of a post or comment that is berating another person in the same breath? It's lame.

Notice how quiet it's been lately? Notice how few articles or comments are popping up? IT'S BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE.

In conclusion -- let's stop fucking up the vibe here, comprende? I'm not a big fan of watching all the fun get sucked out of PNN - I'm sure no one else is either. Let's put the petty shit aside, stop having the same argument/conversation in 4 different frameworks on 4 different pages, and just MOVE ON like the lovely, mature, grown women (and men) that we all aspire to be when we look in the mirror at the end of the day and realize that *suprise, suprise* we aren't any better than anyone else on here.

there, that's my piece. dunzo.

Things They Should Tell You In College...

Fromthehipchick — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 02:13:50 GMT

I know, I know -- they told us to study hard, do well on exams, show up early and stay late, work hard, network harder... and all our dreams of Jaguars and mansions and vacations to Tahiti will inevitably be ours. It was just that simple.

Except that they lied. I don't particularly remember who THEY even were anymore... was it our parents? Our professors? The schlubby marketing director we interned for that one summer (by interned for, I mean, fetched coffee for in blinding rain storms)? I'm only a few years into the whole "young professional" gig and I'll be honest... there's some stuff I wish they would have told me back then without the pretty layer of frosting on top that they so deceivingly distracted me with.

And if I could go back and tell the doe-eyed college seniors who think they're about to become the next Oprah a few things, here is what I'd say - because the fact of the matter is, they need to hear it.

1) Business Attire is Overrated - sure, you'll feel flashy and oh-so-adult-like the first time you done the pinstripes and briefcase. You'll walk with a little extra confidence that day, showing all the higher-ups that you know how to dress the part. And then, 2 months down the road, you will find that the mere thought of buttoning your blazer or having to suck it in while you yank up your pantyhose... kind of makes you want to leap out of a plane. Minus parachute. But this realization and hatred are healthy - because realizing that the suit isn't going to get you to the next level? Is precisely the moment you realize that hard work and a strong mind, will.

2) There is No Such Thing as 40 hours - whether you love what you do or despise it, the 40-hour week is a myth (so are bankers-hours now that the economy is in the crapper). Some weeks you might actually do 25 hours of work, true (also, lucky), but rest assured that the following week, you will make that up two-fold. You will miss breakfast, lunch and dinner at some point. You will miss the big game and you will forgo a Friday night to get a big deal done. And all of this is much less to bear if you don't completely hate your job, which leads me to #3.

3) If You Don't Love It, Don't Do It - not for any longer than you have to anyway. That BS about needing to be at a job for 2 years so that your resume looks better - is just that, BS. If you have the goods, the character, the drive... someone will want you, regardless of how long you've been at your current company. And you will inevitably hate your job at some point - this is life. You change, your interests and passions change - and so your job changes is most cases. There's nothing productive about counting the hours to Friday night at 6 a.m. on Monday, and there aren't enough happy hours in the world to take the edge off of working for an absolute schmuck that you can't stomach for more than 30 second intervals. You get one ride on this merry-go-round called life -- so if you don't love it, don't be afraid to seek out something that you do.

4) Fail. Epically. - not intentionally or anything. But it's going to happen at some point - you'll miss a deadline. Or lose a deal. Or start a small fire in the office somehow. Whatever. No great success has ever come without a hiccup along the way. And you can't go through your whole career simply avoiding failure - people who avoid failure will usually settle for mediocrity just because it's a notch above the bottom. People who want to experience wild success or love of what they do - fail. They keep their minds open and learn from it. And then they go back at it until they succeed.

5) The Office? Looks a lot like High School. - there are jocks and pretty girls. Nerdy IT guys. it's like the movie "Clueless", but Audis and conference rooms replace the sports coupes and classrooms. My advice? Don't be the same bitchy cheerleader or wallflower theatre geek you once were. This time, be kind to everyone (you really never know when you might need to call in a favor, TRUST ME), help people when you think you're too busy, carry your weight to get good grades (in the corporate world, this usually equates to a raise, Score!), and speak up. Realize that the quality of your work and your character mean more to the company than what kind of bag you're carrying or car you're driving. This little gem? Is invaluable to your success.

6) Make Waves - Have a voice. It's always a rat race for the next big deal, the next promotion. it's SO easy to be trampled by the competition, both internally and externally. When you do something well (and you will), take credit. When you fuck up (you'll do this too), take responsibility. If your boss or coworker is treating you like crap, ask for a meeting and let him or her know what's on your mind. Admittedly, it's almost harder to take credit for something good than it is to apologize for something negative. Practice saying "thank you," or "I'm proud of how things turned out; I worked very hard." No one is going to spend their days championing your next raise for the fun of it. The sooner you own your career and its path, the sooner you can start making those waves and enjoying the ride.

Basically, I could write a book of the stuff I wish they'd told me - but today, this is what was weighing on my mind, so.. there it is. If you've got one to add, leave me a comment; I'll address them all with my take. And if you've got a kid - make them read it. Seriously!

*kisses*

A Loss for Words

Fromthehipchick — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 07:56:23 GMT

I have nothing to say. I'm at a complete and utter loss. I'm not sure if I don't have anything to write about, or if I'm just too tired between work/gym/volunteering/training/life to do it. Seriously, you'd think that with the ridiculousness that is moi and the hilarity that pretty much follows me wherever I go, that I'd be oozing new material to write.

And yet -- nothing. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

I'd rather have swine flu

Fromthehipchick — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 21:31:11 GMT

Current Mood: Enraged/Devastated.

I just passed up a 5 day trip to Mexico with one of my best friends in October... because I have so many weddings, babies, showers, parties, gifts, dresses, shoes, hairdo's and more, to pay for over the next 5 months. I am completely and ecstatically happy for all of these people - but at the present moment, my disappointment at missing out on this trip is sitting right about even keel...and for the love of god, I had to vent.

i swear to god, i'm eloping.

**kisses**

I Underestimate People

Fromthehipchick — Sat, 30 May 2009 00:37:47 GMT

it's true. I walk around constantly thinking that there aren't enough witty, sarcastic, cerebrally funny people in the world (aside from our lovely little group of ladies here)... and then I discover this:

TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT

And I find out that I was wrong. And that I love this site. I love every sick, gross, unbelievable, ridiculous, peemypantslaughinghowdoimakethemmyfriend second of it. It is both classically stupid and brilliant, a feat which I bow down to and revere. And then I scour my own texts for something worthy of submission.

**kisses**

The List

Fromthehipchick — Fri, 29 May 2009 22:50:44 GMT

You all probably thought that this was going to be something important and squishy with emotion -- wrong. But alas, this is why ya love me. So here, in no particular order of importance, is my supercalafradgalisticlyawesome weekend.

Sweat Like Pig at Gym. Avoid Devil/Kimber at all costs (silly text messaging story, don't ask)

Buy Wedding Present. Hate buying wedding presents. I'm over Bed Bath & Beyond.

Drink Mojitos at Mexican joint. Avoid a part duex of the flowerpot incident.

Return to gym. Do so many squats that simply standing up will feel like exercise.

Take the dog swimming at the river. Gain his trust back enough to throw him in the deep part to watch him doggy-paddle like a maniac like I did last weekend. He still loves me, I swear.

Grill with friends. Eat. Grill more. Eat more. Love my friends.

Lose Stalkers. All of them. Unless they send me free shoes, at which point, WOO HOO!

Clean guest bedroom for W, who's coming to visit on Saturday. I hate when guests don't have a hotel-like room to sleep in at my house. Then I hate the guest when they muff up the bed by sleeping in it.

Do a bazillion crunches at the gym. Almost die laughing because my friend/workout buddy, S, made us this hilarious workout binder to follow & track out shit in. Complete with before/after picture slots. Love her.

Sex. Not that you care, but I do. So I'm throwing it in there. :)

Coffee. Lots of it. Anytime it's available. I die without caffeine.

Check PNN like a wildwoman with a compulsion for the refresh button. Perhaps call some of the PNN girls to eff up their weekends with my nonsensicial conversation style.

Lose 5 more pounds, search for a tiara and feather boa, start conjuring name-to-face visions, and working on not having the voice of an 8 yr. old, because the Phreak is almost a week away, and I gots to be prepped.

(SIDENOTE - hipchick is sitting in the office right now, obviously bored to tears, and takes full responsibility for the absolute bullshit that is this post and apologizes for you losing the last few precious minutes of your life, to read this. i still love you.)

**kisses**

FYI - the banana rocks

Fromthehipchick — Wed, 27 May 2009 20:04:01 GMT

Just so you all know - I have officially spoken to the banana via telephone. And I'm now thoroughly convinced that we are sisters, separated at birth and now being brought back together by a common love of sweaty balls, all things crazy and spandex. Also, judging by her voice and happy demeanor, I'm assuming that she is not really a banana and is all sorts of adorable.

Also, if any of you know how I can go about deleting a follower of my blog, for the love of god, tell me. And no, it's not any of you lovely ladies who bring so much whatthefuckityfuckness into my life everyday... because like I said, I love the crazy. :)

**kissess**

A Disclaimer For the Future

Fromthehipchick — Sun, 24 May 2009 17:51:31 GMT

Thanks to all the wonderful ladies who told me to keep laughing my ass off...

If you don't like what you read here, if it's too much for you to handle, if it's too bold, too harsh, too acidic - GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. I write here as a way to release a completely sarcastic take on the the things happening around me -- and if you aren't catching the humor, the unreal exaggeration, or the fact that I pretty much take a shot at myself right along with whatever I'm making fun of in EACH & EVERY Post? --> MOVE ALONG. And if we aren't friends in the first place, if we already don't talk or interact, if you claim to not give a damn about me or what I have to say...what the fuck are you doing following my blog? I'm by no means a Perez Hilton - I don't use people's names, I don't pick on children, and I sure as hell don't speculate about anything beyond my comprehension. If you don't like what I have to say - send me a message, straight out, with no anonymity attached - I'm mature enough to hold a conversation and come to a compromise with almost anyone. Or - and here's a better though - FIND SOME NEW MATERIAL TO FEED YOUR MIND WITH.

I don't ask anyone to have the same humor, thought process or verbal stylings that I employ. I don't try to change anyone's mind or sell them on my way of doing things. I talk about work and working out, my friends, my family, myself above all, weird fashion trends and diet fads, and crazy relationship stuff. I give acid-tongued reviews of my own life in order to continue to find the humor in it all - and for the most part, it seems people here get it and laugh along with me. Those that don't - I've usually always addressed, called a truce with or simply let move on. And I WILL CONTINUE TO DO EXACTLY WHAT I'VE BEEN DOING SINCE I GOT HERE. which is LAUGH with the fantastic and supportive minds who also exercise their right to say whatever the hell they feel like - good, bad and ugly.

In summation - it's MY blog. you're welcome to YOUR opinions, and you are even capable of changing mine (See: Gossip Girl Knows Her Shit) but the words on these pages will remain. Love it or Leave it.

Gossip Girl Knows Her Shit

Fromthehipchick — Sun, 24 May 2009 04:17:21 GMT

"Ok, sooo someone has a little too much time on their hands... LOL. Just left the pool and already has s*** to say?! First things first, NO ONE is scared of you, seriously?!?! C'mon! LOL... I appreciate your candor and your honesty, in fact some of it is quite funny however, shouldn't the blogger be of true class since they have such "big" things to say??? Seriously, if your bloggers knew what was in your closet they would say "Wow, why does everything look like it is from the $7.00 store BECAUSE I have not seen anything on you that reflects class or $$. Your boyfriend might look good without a shirt but honey, you need to hit the gym, SERIOUSLY...Is that y you and your dyke friend wore shorts and a tank top to the pool in 87 degree weather? LOL...You want to talk about people? Becareful what you wish for...Like you said "Everyone finds out eventually" XOXO Gossip Girl"

So, let's talk about it.

1) Not sure if GG actually read when the post was done, since it was already a few days old, but that neither here nor there. I deleted my last post, because Gossip Girl made a good point. I get from her comment that not everyone has the same sense of humor that I do. I've said all the things that were in that last post out loud before, always with the intent to elicit a laugh from someone. Also, the entire thing, although it was a joke that culminated in me making fun of myself above all things (I am not Heather Locklear - she's a size 2 blonde with a lot of moolah - I am none of these; I believe you all knew this was a joke, but just in case, I'm a 6/8 brunette hauling ass to pay my bills on a regular basis)... some people might not see the humor. So I'm giving that one to Gossip Girl - jokes can hurt peoples feelings and piss them off just as much as anything else. And I should think about that more often.

2) Regarding the comments about me having class or money -- I'm pretty sure you've all heard me say that I'm a sucker for Target, fleamarkets and all things Sale related. And judging by every single post I've ever written here, I don't think I've ever professed to be the epitome of class - perhaps that epitome of sarcastic interpretation, but not class. I don't really think I'm above any of it - and if you got the joke about us having a little "crew" of our own at the pool and me having the best bag (I don't carry a bag to the pool and we tend to sit by ourselves), you probably already knew that. But perhaps, it was simply too obscure.

3) Regarding my friend - I have no problem if you attack me GG - I'm pretty sure we both know one another anyways, but don't attack her. You've never even crossed paths with each other in the wrong way- that's just beyond necessary. Me though? You can go ahead and take a whack at - maybe we should sit down for coffee sometime and hash this whole thing out, since we're obviously neighbors and all. Oh, by the way, I kept my skirt on because I was only wearing a bathing suit top & was only going to be at the pool for a short while, before having to run out - I didn't think it would be appropo to flash a thong to the general public. And if you want, check out the section titled "bitch on a diet" where I openly and honestly discuss my struggles with diet and exercise (by the way, I'm in the gym 6 days a week because I'm already familiar with the fact that I have to be there 6 days a week and work hard to stay in any kind of shape - but thank you for the reminder. It's good motivation for the next cardio session.)

Anyways - like I said -- GG makes a good point -- I thought that this was all a simple joke like the rest of my posts. I thought this was the case because I thought I clearly included myself and my own ridiculousness in the post - but maybe it didn't translate that way. In any case, i don't write anything here to hurt anyone's feelings - so I took it down. I'm wearing my big girl panties and I'm mature enough to admit that I'm capable of being an asshole -- Thanks GG for pointing it out. My apologies if you were caught in the crosshairs of a silly post gone wrong.

**kisses** -- Not Heather Locklear (just in case anyone was still unsure)

That. Just. Happened.

Fromthehipchick — Sat, 16 May 2009 00:47:25 GMT

If for some reason you were looking for further proof that I am indeed, a completely ridiculous and absurd human being who thinks only of herself and who has rather little control over what escapes my lips in pubic... I offer up - The Bee Incident. That. Just. Happened.

I was driving to office about 15 minutes ago and had the sudden realization that I am in fact, an idiot, for purchasing a dark grey vehicle with a black leather interior. (I was on my first "real job" salary kick at the time and had my head up my ass about the realities of black leather in the summer - leave me alone). Anywhoo - suddenly sweating my proverbial balls off, I decided I would swing through the Chic-Fil-A drive-through on my way to work to grab an UNSWEETENED ICED TEA. I capitalize this because Sweet Tea? Is Just Gross.

As I'm sitting in the little drive-through line thing-y. I have my windows down and I'm minding my own business... when a GIANT QUEEN BEE FLIES IN THE WINDOW AND STARTS BUZZING AROUND MY HEAD! (um... ack! get out of here bee! i hate bees! they buzz and fly around and sting people - I've NEVER been stung! What if I'm allergic? What if i get stung and die in the Chic-Fil-A parking lot!? How fucking sad would this be?) Couple these crazy thoughts with a lot of ducking, flailing, incoherent shrieking... and oh yea, the highlight of it all - I took my foot of the damn break.

And then rolled right into the back of the lady in front of me. I'm not lying. Even worse, because I'm quick with the verbal storytelling (read: good liar) - I hop out of my car shrieking and apologizing and telling the lady that I'msorrybutahugebeeflewinmycarandIMALLERGIC!! which is a lie - I'm not allergic to jack. But she bought it and felt bad and there was no damage so she patted my hand and told me she was just glad that I was alright. UM - let's review - I roll into some lady's car because I'm having an epileptic seizure over a creature the size of my thumbnail, then I lie and say its because I'm allergic and SHE actually tells me the she's glad I AM OKAY. --> I am a bad person.

So I got back in my car, got my iced tea and went about the business of immediately calling my boyfriend to tell him what an asshole I am... and he politely informed me that Queen Bees rarely sting people. Obviously.

and this ladies (and gentlemen, just in case) - is why I am absolutely, positively, and unabashedly in love with my own insanity. And my boyfriend's steadiness.

**kisses**

THE PPP PARTY

Fromthehipchick — Wed, 13 May 2009 20:10:57 GMT

Before Comic stabs me in the damn leg with a dull spork or something - anyone who's attending the PPP event (there's 3 P's you body-function perverts, move along).... leave a post with a possible date that will work for you. We're considering the following:

Weekend of May 30th

Weekend of June 6th

Weekend of June 13th (if neither of the first two work)

Leave your shiz asap - Comic is sharpening her claws as we speak -- and that pussy cat is tough. Plus, Hannah needs to start grooming that growth on her neck that Carm calls a head and face - the least we can do is give the girl advanced notice.

Location is Philly - let's aim for a Saturday - so anyone coming in has time to make the drive/commute. Footy-pjs or some other ridiculousness are required. as are feather boas and tiaras. i don't give a shit how old or mature you think you are - tiaras make everyone feel pretty.

kthanksloveyou - but you're all still butches. Ha - I meant bitches, but obviously that was a freudian slip, so i'm leaving it there - for the fauxbians.

A Hip Banana Comic Love Baby

Fromthehipchick — Tue, 12 May 2009 19:08:52 GMT

1) I have an announcement -- I'm pregnant. With a morph of HannahBanana and ComicTragedy's love child. I'm going to call it Hip--Babana-Comic Love Baby. And it will swear like a trucker. *when appropriate, for all you faint of course language people. (who am I kidding? it's a product of hannah, comic and I - it will do whatever it fucking wants to. kind of like chuck norris).

--> btw, Hannah and Comic didn't know about our love baby until just now... so, big congrats Mommies!

2) Hannah, Comic and myself are planning a get-together. Anyone on the relative East Coast is free to attend. There will be alcohol and footy-pajamas and talk of Rabbit vibrators. possibly tattoos and chanting in foreign tongues. and some voodoo. If you think you can handle it - WE. DARE. YOU. :)

3) If you can't make our get-together -- meet me in Vegas sometime. I told my boyfriend I think I'd rather be married by an Elvis impersonator in the Little White Chapel than by a priest in a church. Knowing me, I'm sure this makes complete sense to all of you. I can kill two birds with one stone - quickie wedding + PNN Meeting. OOOooooh, and I can go on that crazy-high ride atop the Stratosphere where they like, hang you off the side of the damn building. That could be fun :)

PS - anyone that would like to apply to become honorary god-parents to little HBC when the hell-child arrives, feel free to leave a post. there will be a lengthy interview process - you might be required to run around somewhere in public, naked. and screaming swear words at the top of your lungs. wielding kimber's porkchop and hannah's adhesive-side up pad. but it will be worth it - we'll probably let you babysit (ie- drop it off and run like hell).

PSS - also, I'll be accepting gifts. but not like, baby stuff. i was thinking like... mojitos and new shoes and stuff like that. stuff that matters. ;)

**kisses**