Find me a new webhost and you'll be the first to gain all access entry to the new webcam and nude picture galleries.
-Watch as I get up close and personal with the famed Silver Bullet.
-See the amazing tricks I can do with a sweet potato, a rocking chair and a merkin.
-Download pics of me and my antics with a lemur, a USB cord and a rubber ducky.
-Drool on your keyboards as you watch me be serviced by 3 Italian studs, a short hairy butch bitch, various household appliances and my flatmate's cat.
-Get riled up over my faux-13-year-old one handed typing as we cyber in private chat room.
-Add three inches to your member just by buying me something off my wishlist.
Alright, take your hands off your cocks. I'm not going to be a CamWhore as it would be quite difficult to explain why I am waltzing about in my underwear sucking on a tuber at work.
I am in need of different hosting though. Or better yet, a halfway decent hosting plan search engine. My Google-Fu is giving me bupkis as I really don't have the time to sift through the crap to find the nuggets of corn. Er, gold.
Suggestions and/ or links here. Don't make Mama beg for it.
27 September 2003
16 September 2003
Miss Cleo ain't got nuthin' on me
I'm not one for premonitions, but after two years of this crap I'm starting to creep myself out.
Fact: I do not normally remember my dreams upon waking.
Fact: My ex-fianceè dumped me two years ago. For two years I have repeatedly told him to never contact me again. Thankfully, his attempts at contacting me have lessened over time. But they haven't stopped, despite being cursed with every word in the book and then some.
Fact: Without fucking fail, if I dream about this ex I remember it. And within two days of said dream, he tries to contact me.
What. The. Fuck.
Whether this is some weird trick of the Fates or some freaky-deaky sub-atomic rippling of the cosmos causing primordial synapses to fire, colour me Not Amused.
Fact: I do not normally remember my dreams upon waking.
Fact: My ex-fianceè dumped me two years ago. For two years I have repeatedly told him to never contact me again. Thankfully, his attempts at contacting me have lessened over time. But they haven't stopped, despite being cursed with every word in the book and then some.
Fact: Without fucking fail, if I dream about this ex I remember it. And within two days of said dream, he tries to contact me.
What. The. Fuck.
Whether this is some weird trick of the Fates or some freaky-deaky sub-atomic rippling of the cosmos causing primordial synapses to fire, colour me Not Amused.
15 September 2003
Snippets
*I want a soundtrack to my life. Barring that a big strapping Negro fellow following me around with boom box. Or an iPod with speakers. Whatever. I just want music following my every move, so that I won't just be some spaz who starts waltzing down the street to the music in my head.
*Why a big strapping Negro fellow? Well, are you going to fuck with a chick who has a big strapping Negro fellow following her around with a boom box? I thought not.
*I hate the Euro. Everything has doubled in price. Excepting of course, my salary.
*Above thought prompted by the discovery that floor tickets for Ani Di Franco tomorrow night are 30 fucking Euros. 60,000 Lire. 60 bucks old skool money for Ani Di.
*And I'm going anyway. By myself. How's that for loserville?
*The sector of tourism that I work in is not only fucking incestuous in terms of competition, it's also rife with copycats. Case in point? The new websites I did. There are already three -count 'em - THREE other places that have flat out stolen the text I did for our sites. Can we say "copyright infringement notice"? I thought we could.
*In other Evil Webmistress related news, I take perverse pleasure in redirecting certain people *cough*oldwebmasters*cough* to a special 404 page when they try to look for a way in to the admin side. One that says "The page you are looking for IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. Thanks for logging your IP with us. Have a Nice Day."
That's fairly nice. Little script kiddies and spammers looking to exploit formmail get sent to Tubgirl (don't go googling for that unless you really really really feel the urge to scrub your eyeballs with steel wool and Clorox.)
*Why a big strapping Negro fellow? Well, are you going to fuck with a chick who has a big strapping Negro fellow following her around with a boom box? I thought not.
*I hate the Euro. Everything has doubled in price. Excepting of course, my salary.
*Above thought prompted by the discovery that floor tickets for Ani Di Franco tomorrow night are 30 fucking Euros. 60,000 Lire. 60 bucks old skool money for Ani Di.
*And I'm going anyway. By myself. How's that for loserville?
*The sector of tourism that I work in is not only fucking incestuous in terms of competition, it's also rife with copycats. Case in point? The new websites I did. There are already three -count 'em - THREE other places that have flat out stolen the text I did for our sites. Can we say "copyright infringement notice"? I thought we could.
*In other Evil Webmistress related news, I take perverse pleasure in redirecting certain people *cough*oldwebmasters*cough* to a special 404 page when they try to look for a way in to the admin side. One that says "The page you are looking for IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. Thanks for logging your IP with us. Have a Nice Day."
That's fairly nice. Little script kiddies and spammers looking to exploit formmail get sent to Tubgirl (don't go googling for that unless you really really really feel the urge to scrub your eyeballs with steel wool and Clorox.)
28 August 2003
Linguistic Brainfart Mad-Libs Time
It ain't ironic, it's.....
When an American born chica has been waiting over a year for the paperwork to be completed for an Italian work permit, finally gets the postcard with the appointment date to pick up said permit, and the appointment date is the morning of September 11th, it ain't ironic, it's..........
Help me out here people.
When an American born chica has been waiting over a year for the paperwork to be completed for an Italian work permit, finally gets the postcard with the appointment date to pick up said permit, and the appointment date is the morning of September 11th, it ain't ironic, it's..........
Help me out here people.
08 August 2003
Bad Luck Charm
Or How My Vibrator is Ruining My Sex Life
So my best girl friend and I were sweltering in the corner of a friend's bar last night sipping our Vodka Red Bulls when the conversation turned to sex.
All right, so it didn't "turn" to sex, it started out that way. But i digress...
We were discussing a veritable range of sexual topics under the cover of the music, like how we didn't bleed when we lost our virginity, my reaction to my first uncut schlong, whether Italian boys really are gifted in *that* area or if I'd just been lucky, yadda yadda yadda.
And eventually we got to talking about our respective last hookups. At which point I bemoaned the fact that I'm back on the Battery Bandwagon and teased her that i was going to buy her a vibrator for her birthday. Amid vehement cries of "No way. What the hell would I tell everyone when they asked me what I got?" she stopped me dead cold with
"Besides, it brings bad luck."
Whaaa?
Apparently, my grand love affair with the Energizer Bunny and little side flings with Duracell Coppertops is jinxing my sex life. My 11 month run of no nookie was caused by a Vibrator Evil Eye.
So my best girl friend and I were sweltering in the corner of a friend's bar last night sipping our Vodka Red Bulls when the conversation turned to sex.
All right, so it didn't "turn" to sex, it started out that way. But i digress...
We were discussing a veritable range of sexual topics under the cover of the music, like how we didn't bleed when we lost our virginity, my reaction to my first uncut schlong, whether Italian boys really are gifted in *that* area or if I'd just been lucky, yadda yadda yadda.
And eventually we got to talking about our respective last hookups. At which point I bemoaned the fact that I'm back on the Battery Bandwagon and teased her that i was going to buy her a vibrator for her birthday. Amid vehement cries of "No way. What the hell would I tell everyone when they asked me what I got?" she stopped me dead cold with
"Besides, it brings bad luck."
Whaaa?
Apparently, my grand love affair with the Energizer Bunny and little side flings with Duracell Coppertops is jinxing my sex life. My 11 month run of no nookie was caused by a Vibrator Evil Eye.
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