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Sally Forth and get funky. Rex Morgan M.D. funky.

Toot Toot. Open wide. The Update Train is a-coming!

Marshmallows, Pixies, and Jug Bands all a-mingling together.

To The Hip-Hip-Hippity-Hop!

Olly-olly-ox-in-free!

2003-05-29 - 4:30 p.m.

Princess Crocodile.

Another gray day, both in weather and spirit. Not that I'm feeling sad or even BLAH. Just childishly thoughtful, pondering questions of meaning and purpose while busting a jumpy mean groove to my Gry record and using my broom handle as a microphone. A sassy lass, oh yes! (I love these moments of pure existence, where all images and awareness of myself crash to the floor and I just AM, unafraid. My cats seem to enjoy it too. Especially when I serenade them). They know talent when they see it, and I am nothing if not a passionate princess who peppers her Princess performances with purposeful pondering. Indeed. (Now five times real fast). Go!!

GRAB YOUR OVEN MITTS.

So here's the issue on the front burner of my mental oven: soulmates. Now what, pray tell, could the Fanged Faerie possibly have to say about soulmates? Well keep arms and legs inside the boat, trusting passengers, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

I think they are an illusion. A modern-day myth. I think we yearn for soulful committment because we want some sort of security and stability, a fluffy cotton twill of sorts to stuff between ourselves and the gaping-blackness that peers at us through the cracks in the foundations of society. And yet...there is something to be said for wanting to feel needed and loved. Herein lies my dilemma. I don't want to BIG BRAIN myself out of wanting soulful connection, yet I also don't want to seek an illusion to the point that I ignore the very real, wonderful people (one incredibly wonderful person in particular), that are a part of my life right now.

Wanting to feel needed. Hmmmmm, interesting. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not in search of a Co-dependant Colin or anything (minus ten for that witty bit). I guess I just want someone to appreciate me (insert "awwww" soundbyte here) without being dependant on me. A best friend who will join me in my rag-tag antics and appreciate our connection in a "gosh I'm lucky way" and not in an "I've sacrificed a live chicken and used his blood to write your name all over my apartment walls" way. Too much to ask? I think not.

(I'm now taking applications so write a brief bit about yourself and your feelings about chickens and I will give you my utmost consideration. EOE. I do not discriminate based on gender, however I do have minimum IQ requirements). Grin.

Any-way. Moving forward and climbing off this hot stove:

A SMALL LIST OF BATHROOM DECORATIONS THAT MAKE THE BABY JESUS CRY:

1) Seashell-shaped bathroom soaps. I'm sorry, they are wrong with a capital 'W'. You are not at the beach. I don't care if your Glade Plug-In is "Ocean Fresh". This is not an illusion I am willing to support. I grew up with these things in a little basket on the back of our toilet. They were never used. They came in weird colors. They did nothing but collect dust and look stupid. There are people who can't eat in our country, okay? So step away from the non-useful decorative soaps. Thanks.

2) Crocheted Toilet Paper Cozies. Another item that lives on the back of toilets. Look people, extra roll + crocheted cozie does not = decorative flair! Ibid for the weird Crocheted Lady version, in which an erie doll's head is attached to the top of the cozie and we are supposed to believe that the extra toilet paper is "hiding" underneath her skirt. It's sick and strangely pornographic, okay?

3) Any sort of Country teddy bear. You know who you are.

4) Any sort of "don't pee on the toilet seat" sign. An additional minus ten if said sign is part of a Country decor and has a teddy bear anywhere on it.

5) Any sort of precious moment style religious picture. It's cool if you have a thing for praying children, but come one, I'm trying to take a poop, let's leave religion and little kids out of it.

Deep ponderings, tips on bathroom decorating, AND combinations of the two! I smell a hit show: Surprise (the Baby Jesus) by Design. We'll be millionaires. Hey, where are you going?

Okie-dokie-doo, I'm off like a flaming rocket. Check your bathrooms and remember to dance like a ma-ni-ac when no one is watching.

-The Fanged Faerie thumps melons for fun.

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