Guest Blogging on the D-List

July 7, 2010

Dear Diary,

Dammit, I'm pissed. I've been crawling on my hands and knees through Lady Blogger land trying to land a guest posting gig, tossing "j'adores" and "so pretty" comments left and right---guest posting means you've made it to the inner circle . It's like going to concerts in collage--do the groupie--get close to the band. It's an important step to being besties. And who do I finally land--girl world (here). Jesus, if I had to stoop to snark, why couldn't it be somebody big like Decorno.

Decorno, gone like Domino----oh God, I promised myself I'd stop crying, but dammit---just gone.....like that.....like the wind.....at least when Daddy passed, I had time to prepare.......

Whew, I needed that drink...must remember to replace bottle of Tanguray before Lonny shoot....

Dammit, why didn't J____ let me guest post my kitchen? I copied the copy of the modified Something's Got to Give Kitchen, but with the white marble counters. I knew that I should have looked harder for a whiter marble for the kitchen reno. and I only considered white subway tile, slightly not as white subway tile, beveled white subway tile, vintage white subway tile, hand formed white subway tile, and white marble subway tile--there had to be more white subway tile options. And I used five shades of white paint, not to mention the three coats of primer it took to cover the black (so edgy, but SO last issue of Lonny)---White Dove walls, Dove White ceiling, Not Dove White or White Dove But It All Still Looks the Same White on the cabinets, Arizona Republican White trim, and Completely Uncleanable and Impractical White Porch paint on the floors (it looks so clean and fresh--or would if those two assholes I live with would remember Mommy's "take your goddamn shoes off before you walk on my white floor" rule, but mopping twice a day is worth it for the look, besides Consuela needs the cardio-- note to self-buy her next uniform one size larger). But it's still not inoffensive enough....still TOO much personality, even if that asshat, Boobear says eating breakfast in there is like eating in an operating room....operating room...note to self, need to schedule Boobear's vasectemy. It's time to stop "discussing our options" and take some action.

Maybe if I add another apron front sink and a couple of more bridge faucets, I'll finally make the cut....

Gotta go, I think I hear the brat in the kitchen, and if that little pissant gets red Kool-aid on my white marble countertop again, the angels of glory won't be enough to save his sorry ass