Ms. VonPartypants expects to be fully operational later this week, when she will be enjoying a well-deserved 4, possibly 5 day weekend. She will be catching up on your news feeds/blogs/pap smears/family feuds/drunken rants and such and such as well, as she acknowledges her complete and total abandonment of y'all in the past few weeks. She is terribly sorry and promises to make you cookies and give you a totally-not-dirty-unless-you-want-it-to-be-then-I-guess-we'll-go-there massage.
In the official statement she released to the press she stated it as such:
"Can't talk. Work. House. Need sleep. Gah!"
Until then, she thinks you should tell her about your first kiss.
Hers was with a guy named Kurt in the garage next to her dad's beer can collection and auto-parts calendar with the trashy blonde with the huge cans on it. Kurt had a kisser like a large mouthed bass, and he seemed to believe that the wetter, the better. He was all tongue and had a strange vacuum-like suction going on. When she was allowed to come up for air, Ms. Whiskey felt as if she had been violated by a sea lamprey, and her entire face was covered with spit.
Tell me about yours- make something up if you're still waiting for that magic moment to happen, Prudey VonPruderstein.
Happy Monday, my french-kissing water-bourne parasites. Happy Monday.