fergie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tattoo "For me, a balloon on my butt sounds kind of cool. No matter how big my butt would get, it would still look good." Glitter Queen got her first tattoo today. It's a purple heart on her chest, just at the bra line. Very sexy. I love the connection I have with her. Even though she lives thousands of miles away, we talk almost everyday on IM or on the phone. Yesterday when she told me she was going to get it done, I had this feeling the next time I talked to her, she'd tell me why she didn't get it. Last night when I saw her online, she said the place was too busy and packed full of people. Neither of us really like being around a room full of people, especially those we don't know, so clearly she decided to leave. She called this morning and we chatted before she went out with some friends. Though neither of us mentioned the tattoo in our conversation, I expected to get a call a few hours later, detailing the decision to go back to get the it. She called high from the buzz of getting ink done. It's a fabulous feeling. A bit painful, but it forces you to appreciate the effort is takes to go through it. Having a tattoo myself, I knew what her reaction would be to the experiance: "It was more annoying than anything, a little painful, and I want another one!" It was my reaction when I got mine done, and I totally understood. They may not be for everyone, and who knows what I'll think of mine when I'm 80, but as long as the 'karma' character I have on my stomach doesn't stretch out into another word I think I'll be fine. 3:53 p.m. - Aug. 17, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- kitty ok kitty is fine, for all of you concerned readers out there. she ate her way through the clothes and went on her way, after pausing briefly to lick herself on the shoulder. those articles of clothing that survived the ordeal were later washed without incident. 11:45 p.m. - Aug. 16, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- laundry Tonight was laundry night. Usually laundry is a task that I try to avoid at all costs, but sometimes it becomes apparent it needs to be done. Like tonight. I�ll admit, I allow things to pile up because I have a maid. A full laundry basket is not an uncommon sight in my home. Usually the amount of laundry is directly related to how busy I�ve been. The more things on my calendar, the more outfits I go through in a day. Thus, my laundry basket was not just full, but to the point of over flowing. Several pairs of pants hung over the side, dangling into a mound of socks on the floor which stretched out over to the chair. Slung over the back of the chair were several towels, and a couple pairs of sweatpants on top of a denim jacket and a few tank tops. A layer of underwear covered the seat, not just for good measure but to balance it so the weight of all the clothes on the back didn�t cause the barely visible chair to fall over. And then kitty walked by brushing her tail around in the air and the leaning tower of fergie�s laundry fell on her head. 12:12 a.m. - Aug. 16, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- almost tgif yea! almost friday. 11:14 p.m. - Aug. 15, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 3-2-1 orgasm One of my friends is dating a guy who can have sex with her for, like, 45 minutes and doesn't cum. (in fact, *still* hasn't with her. Ever.) I have a very close friend who ALWAYS cums within ten seconds. Me, the virgin, is wondering what, like, the average is. Wait, back up. 10 seconds? Does he, like, get another shot or is that the only homerun for the night? I think you�re friend�s masturbation habits need to change. He should stop doing it while he�s alone, and get one out of the chamber before he has sex. That should help. Really. 10:56 p.m. - Aug. 13, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- prince i still love you whatever the hell your name is There are times I feel like a good writer. There are times I realize how far I still have to go in order to become a great one. Yesterday I made a crack at Prince, the artist formerly known as a symbol. It�s always with hindsight, and usually a comment from a reader or two, that forces me to look at something I�ve written with a new set of eyes. The difficult thing about being a writer is that I always know where I�m coming from, but my words may not express what I truly mean. Do I think the time period that Prince changed his name into a symbol no one knew how to pronounce showed a lack of common sense? Yes. Was that the point? Yes. When Prince was under contract with Warner Brothers, he became entangled in an artist/label dispute that made him feel trapped. �Prince� became a package. Something that could be manipulated, distributed, labeled, bought, and sold without ever consulting the person it was representing. To signify the loss of control, the senselessness that he felt so caught up in, his reaction was to show the world just how ridiculous he thought the industry he worked for was. If the record label was going to create their own version of Prince, then he would show the world he wasn�t really �Prince� anymore. No longer the artist he once was, Warner had turned him into a symbol. A dollar symbol, perhaps? Now, I can�t give Prince too much credit, because the man clearly set himself up for the backlash of media stupidity. The press became so consumed with what they should call him no one bothered to focus on the reason behind it. However, this was not a lack of common sense on Prince�s part, more a lack of foresight. What was a statement against the system became a running joke in the very industry he was fighting against. It�s hard to command respect when people are laughing at you. This is why I write satire. It�s OK when people laugh at you. And you don�t even have to be that good at it. 1:10 a.m. - Aug. 13, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- monday It's Monday. I hate Monday. 7:07a.m. - Aug. 12, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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