Dear Diary,

No apologies for not having written in such a long time. I’ve been busy doing very important government things, like dinners, speeches and just being sexy and awesome.

Anyway, yesterday I went to fire up a bone, and I realized that I was totally out of weed. I drank a bunch of Cristal to hammer down the Jones, but I still longed for the herbal buzz. I called my assistant, Lance, and asked him to score me some shit and drop it off at the house.

He said, “Not necessary, Nan. I’m here at ‘Occupy Oakland’ and there more weed here than there is corn in Iowa. Bullhorns, signs, drums, chanting, plenty of free food! Come on down!”

I had seen news reports of those wonderful people demonstrating in Oakland, and it reminded me of my days at Woodstock. Freakin’ groovy! I put on my granny glasses, my tie dye shirt and bellbottom pants. I did my hair in braids, strapped on my sandals and headed for Oakland.

As I approached the protest, I could hear the drums and chants. I could also smell the herb and the sweat. It was awesome; it was 1969-Yasgur’s Farm awesome. I stopped at a shop to liberate flowers for my hair. My dainties were already damp.

I walked near the awesome drummers and immediately met a fellow named Aquarius. He had a star on each cheek and three more on his forehead. He gave me a few hits of whatever the primo shit was in his bong and brought me to the center of the drum circle. That must have been really good weed, because I haven’t danced like that since I danced topless with Wavy Gravy at Woodstock. I pulled up my shirt and let the crowd see my awesome tits. They cheered; it was totally awesome.

Aquarius took me to his tent where I dropped some of the Woodstock brown acid, snorted some quality blow and played “Hide the Salami” with several of his friends – big guys, all, if you catch my drift. Must have been a half dozen of them. It was totally freakin’ awesome.

Lance drove me back to my place, because walking was uncomfortable (As I said, there were at least six of them, maybe more). I threw back a few Percodans and a Valium or two in order to relax, so now I’m just sipping Cristal thinking about how spontaneous and groovy those beautiful people were. God bless them.

Wait ……. I hear loud noises outside my window. A bullhorn? Drums?

Holy shit! They’re demonstrating outside my house! They’re screaming “Eat the Rich! Pelosi’s a Rich Bitch!” WTF? Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think this is freakin’ “Oakland?” I have to stop writing, because I’m calling the cops to have these lawless pieces of shit removed from my goddamned property.

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Dear Diary,

It’s been a long time since I sat down to write in my diary. That’s because I’ve been totally busy slamming the shit out of my gabel while speaking in the House. I’ve been breaking my gorgeous ass getting laws passed that are, like, totally rad. Free stuff for everyone!

And yet, what do I get in return? A bunch of mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging idiots carrying flags with snakes on them – yes snakes! – asking me about the constitutionicity of the laws that I broke my picture-perfect ass to pass for them. Ungrateful bastards! Pricks! I’m the goddamned SPEAKER in the House, and I know all about the constitutionicity of stuff. Obviously, those snake-flag waving Nazis never heard of the Good and Plenty Clause in the Constitution.

Then there was the election. What did I do on the night of the election? I planned my own little victory party, because nobody can beat me in my district — ever. My people love me. So, I had laid in an ample supply of high quality herb — no stems or seeds. Totally primo shit. I paid for the services of a Mexican named Diego who was going to show me how to play “Ride the Bucking Burro.” He brought over some homemade enchiladas and one of those big hats – You know: the kind those people wear – a somblego or some shit.

We fired up the weed and watched Keith Olbermann. He is sooooo smart, but Diego seemed a bit puzzled by it all, so I kept him busy by letting him play with my tits. By the time the polls on the East Coast closed, we had done the enchiladas, a couple six packs of Corona and three or four shots of Jose Cuervo. I was wearing my somblego and nothing else.

We were just getting started playing the Bucking Burro Game when I got a bunch of calls from the whiney-ass house members who were in the process of getting their asses kicked in the polls. It was like, ”Oooooh Nancy, I’m like totally screwed. I did everything you said and voted the way you told me to, and now I’m going to have to get a real job. Whatever am I going to do?”

Crybaby bitches! They didn’t do everything I told them to do, because if they did, they would still have their jobs. I told them a gazillion times, “If you want to win elections, you have to look sexy – like me!” But did they listen? Nooooo. So now they want to bellyache to me? Screw them. I unplugged the phone.

Besides, I wanted to hop back on that bucking burro.

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Dear Diary,

O.M.F.G.!!!!!!! What a time it has been!!!!! No wonder I have neglected my diary. Here are the high points.

Prior to Election Day, I was really busy being the SPEAKER in the House and attending campaign events. I am a very important person who does very important and very non-partisan work, like attending meetings with Barney Frank. He’s soooooo smart, and he’s an absolute hoot! I get a special kick out of him, because … well … you know. When I see him I always say, “Barney, are you sure you don’t want to touch my tits? Everyone else does.”

He always giggles and says, “Oh Nancy, you’re such a naughty vixen. If they were only manboobs!” He’s a real pisser, I tell ya. Once, I even tricked him into saying “Sufferin’ Succotash!” LMAO!!!!

Then came election day. Holy shit. Except for a half-dozen glasses of Cristal in the morning (mixed with a capful of orange juice makes it a health drink), I didn’t drink until the polls closed. OK, I’m lying. I drank like a fish all damned day, and when I wasn’t drinking I was burning up some primo shit.

You know how they say people remember exactly what they were doing when something BIG happened? You know? Like the Kennedy assassination, or the unveiling of a new line of Gucci bags? Well, I can tell you exactly what I was doing when CNN called the election for Obama. I was wearing my French Maid’s outfit. I was shitfaced and stoned with my hand down the pants of a Hungarian Hunk named Miklos, whom I rented for the day. OMFG!!!! While Wolf Blitzer was still talking, Miklos ripped off my outfit and went to town. Hollllllly shit! He sure knows his way around my goulash. It was AWESOME!!!

Poor Hilly. I called her to see if she wanted to come over for some refreshments and to see Miklos play naked Gypsy violin music, especially the songs where he uses his “special bow!!” OMFG!!!! I could barely understand her on the phone. She was breathless, crying and yelling and screaming all sorts of obscenities at Bill. I’m pretty sure she was throwing stuff too. Oh, well. Sucks to be her.

Unfortunately, after the election, I still had to some very important SPEAKER stuff to do, like, working with Barney and Chris to straighten out the financial mess that the maroon from Texas and his failed policies got us into. That Chris is a really smart guy, and he told me that if I’d flash him, he’d get me a sweet re-financing deal. Boobs away!!!!! LOL!!!!! What a hoot.

Inauguration Day was un-freakin’believable. It was totally awesome being on the podium with other seriously important people, even though it was cold as hell. I didn’t much appreciate Harry Reid rubbing his thing against my ass and whispering “I know how to keep you warm, Nancy.” During the President’s speech, no less! Well, I guess I can’t blame him.

The parties!!!! There were so many, but my favorite was the one thrown by MSNBC. I never saw so much excellent blow in one place at one time. Totally AWESOME. Keith Olbermann was in the kitchen, drunk as shit, drinking German beer from one of those stein things. Actually, he was dribbling more than he was drinking, because he was doing nonstop “special commentaries.” He is really smart. When he noticed me in the room, he stopped talking and walked right up to me and stared at my tits. I said, “Like what you see, Slugger?”

He took off his glasses and said, “Don’t you think I look like Superman when I take my glasses off? Check it out. Glasses on – Keith Olbermann. Glasses off – Superman!” Like I said, the guy is really, truly smart. Awesomely smart.

Chrissy Mathews showed up. OMG, he is soooooo cute. If you think he talks fast on television, you should have seen him after he’s done a couple lines of premier blow. Holy crappitolly!! He’s like a verbal string of firecrackers! He walked up to me and said, “I love a Ginny broad with a sweet ass. You send a major tingle up my leg.” With that, he hustled my fine ass into the kitchen pantry. Maybe it was the blow, but now I think I know why they call him “Tweety.”

The things I do for my country.

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Dear Diary,

Sorry for neglecting my diary, but I have been busy flying all over the country to promote my most excellent book. It talks about how amazing I am, and the people seem to love it.

I also have been more than a little bit pre-occupied with the shithead, thug republicans in the House, in which I am the SPEAKER. I’ve been SPEAKING fine my ass off, and those snotty bastards (and that maroon in the White House) aren’t listening to me. I’m SMART, Goddammit! What’s wrong with these mouth-breathing republican assholes?

Drill, drill, drill, DRILL! That’s all they want to talk about. They’re driving me freakin’ nuts. Hell, I turned off the lights and microphones in the place and that didn’t stop them. I’d like to go into every one of their offices and piss on their papers.

So, being a reasonable woman (and extremely bright and powerful SPEAKER in the House), I offered a compromise. I said that we would consider an itty-bitty bit of drilling off the coast, and to sweeten the pot, I offered to let each one of them touch my tits. No takers! Rat bastards – all of them.

And for all you pricks who think I have no solution to this energy thing, you can just piss off. As it happens, just yesterday, I telephoned my spiritual advisor, Maharishi Mahesh Mutugaipan and he gave me the answer. He said, “Butterfly, the answer is in the wind and the sun and the sea. You must spend more time with your crystals.”

The man is a genius. Hey, wait! I’m not sure if he said “crystals” or “Cristal.” Screw it. I’ll do both, and when congress resumes, I’ll lay out one ass-kicking plan, let me tell you.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to get that faccia d’ weasel Chuck Schumer to stop trying to get into my dainties, I’d have a bit more crystal (and Cristal LOL) time. In his latest email, he invited me to his Washington “bachelor pad” for a night of “Manischewitz and hot, sloppy sex,” after which we could “cuddle” and “groove to” recordings of his press conferences.

You think it’s easy being the SPEAKER in the House? Hell, if it were easy, any asshole could do it.

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Dear Diary,

OMFG! It must be 4 in the morning.

I drank all the Cristal, smoked all the herb and snorted about two thousand bucks worth of premium blow. I think I’ve been up for four days straight. I’ve been playing Grateful Dead bootleg concert tapes non-stop for about 72 hours. Freakin’ awesome. Gotta be an all-time record. That Jerry Gonzalez can sure play his ass off. Memo to self: Invite Jerry over for dinner and whatever!

Funny, I’m not hungry. I was after I finished the weed, but then I started on the blow. Primo shit, man. I think my nose may be bleeding. I’m pretty sure Sven was here a day or two ago, because I haven’t had panties on for at least a day, and I’m feeling a little sticky down there LOL!. It’s OK, though, because I have one fine ass. Everybody says so.

Where’s that little bastard Lance? I called him three hours ago to tell him to score some coke and get it here pronto, or I’d fire his sorry ass. When you’re the SPEAKER in the goddamned House, pronto friggin’ means PRONTO! Little shit.

Oh shit, I’m getting ANOTHER text message from that asshole Harry Reid. He’s been doing this for the last four hours. Annoying as hell.

I just answered him:

OK, if U must know, I’m wearing a Code Pink tee shirt and nothing else, so STOP ASKING.

I know you want me NOW, but 2 bad 4 U. I’m busy working on SPEAKER Stuff.

You’ll have to think of something else to do with your Monster Mormon Member.

The guy just will not let up. I can’t say that I blame him, though. Everyone wants me.

Damn, Jerry Gonzalez has been playing “Ripple” for the last forty minutes. Freakin’ AWESOME.

OMFG…….I called Hilly yesterday. Maybe it was the day before; I can’t remember. You know, just to shoot the shit. Oh, I remember now. I wanted to tell her about Sven and the lard, which was AWESOME. I think she was in Texas or some shit. She was so pissed she couldn’t even talk straight. One minute she was shouting and the next minute she was crying. WTF??

I asked her if she wanted me to FedEx her some blow. She told me that I’ve been no goddamned help to her, that at the moment she needs delegates, not blow, and that I should shove the blow up my ass, then she hung up on me!

No sense shoving blow up my ass. I snorted it instead.

I hear that Barack likes him some good blow.

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Dear Diary,

OMG! I realize that I have neglected my diary for months now. It’s just that I have been totally busy doing government SPEAKER in the House stuff and staying in touch with my new seriously good friend Arianna Huffington. I know she sounds like Zsa Zsa Gabor, but don’t let that fool you. She is freakin’ brilliant. (I have waaaaaay better tits, but let’s not go there).

A couple weeks ago she called me and said, “Nan, I’m dying for some decent escargot. Vhat do you say you fly vit me to Paris for dinner? I know a place zat makes za best escargot you’ve ever tasted, and zee waiters wear tight pants and have vonderful asses zat look like zey are made of hard rubber.”

The hard rubber asses did it for me!

We flew on, like, her private jet, which was loaded with Cristal and caviar, but the best part was when she showed me the toilet bowl that contains a porcelain picture of that moron Bush. She said, “Nan, I so love shitting on Chimpy McHitlerburton. I feel vondervul aftervards. Dey are da best shits ever.”

I shit on him too. It was freakin’ AWESOME! LOL! Rethuglicans are just sooooooo, like, crude.

Oh, and this was really cool. Hilly came over last week. We were doing some totally primo herb and giving each other bikini waxes, when she mentioned that she needed to prepare to question that skinny General douchebag, who has been doing some stuff in Iraq. I said, “Girlfriend, I knew that, and do I ever have a surprise for you!”

At that moment Sven came to the door – all 6’4”, 185 pound, well muscled, hung like Man o’ War, blond, blue-eyed bit of him. Like I had asked him to do, he was wearing one of those silly Army Uniforms, with lots of stars and ribbons and shit.

When he saw Hilly and me, he thought it would be like our regular routine, so he began removing the uniform. “No,” I said. “Later for that.”

I made him sit in a chair wearing the uniform while Hilly and I called him all sorts of names like, “Douchebag, Liar” and shit. Hilly really got into it. “You’re a stinking, miserable, lying traitor, and you’re nothing but a freakin’ stooge for the arch terrorist Bush. You’re probably a child molester and your mother is a five-dollar streetwalker!”

It was, like, so totally cool!

Then we took turns peeing on him. This cost me an extra $500, but it was worth every penny. It was freakin’ AWESOME.

After that, Hilly said that she was totally ready to take on that Bush toady, douchebag general and his bullshit Iraq testimony.

But there was still plenty of herb, plenty of Cristal and plenty of time for Hilly and me to play “Hide the Howitzer” with Sven.

It was freakin’ AWESOME.

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Dear Diary,

Hey, I just flew in from Syria, and boy are my arms tired! ROFLMAO!

OMG, this is the first chance I have had to catch up on my diary, because I was on a very important, most excellent dimploatic trip (Maybe you read something about it. LOL!!), where as the SPEAKER in the House I got to do lots of speaking with people who are almost as smart and as important me.

The plane ride was a riot. At first, Waxman was pretty stiff, but after a bottle or two of Cristal he started to loosen up. I fired up my Peter, Paul and Mary discs and convinced him to try some primo herb. It was a hoot when he started trying to sing “Puff the Magic Dragon,” and he’d get all confused and shit. Then he started snorting and pounding the chair laughing and saying stuff like, “Yeah, yeah. ‘Little Jackie Paper’ … Imagine if he had a brother named ‘Toilet’ or News’?” Then he tried to grab my ass. I can’t say I blame him.

Truth is, some people probably shouldn’t do herb. LOL!!

We spent a couple days in Israel, where I got to speak a lot to a lot of very important people, and were they ever glad I came, because they have some serious problems, and I solved one of their biggest problems in a jiffy.

I gave each of these seriously important people a crystal and we held hands in a circle until we all felt the right vibes. They obviously knew I was an expert at this, because they were all staring at me and saying nothing.

I am totally certain that they have serious denial issues, because do you believe that I had to explain to them that their biggest problem is that they just cannot seem to get along with their neighbors? I told them that you catch more vinegar with flies than honey … no, wait you catch more flies with vinegar than … no, wait! Oh, you know what I mean. I said, “Look, if your neighbors jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge or ran around with scissors, does that mean you have to do it too? And, a rolling stone gathers no moss.” They obviously got it, because they were all shaking their heads. This dimplomacy stuff is a snap.

Oh, then they took me for a ride around Jerusalem and we stopped by this wall. It was awesome. There was a bunch of people there, mostly dressed in black – sort of Gothic, who were head banging. I figured they were all wearing iPods, because I couldn’t hear any music. I forgot my iPod, so I had my driver pull the car near the wall and turn the volume way, way up on my Green Day disc. I hopped out of the car and joined in with the head bangers. They freakin’ loved it! They all stopped head banging, gathered in a group (like a moish pit) and watched me rock. It was awesome.

I know they hated to see me leave Israel, because everywhere I went people were saying “MESHUGENA!!” which they told me means “We’ll miss you!” Still, it was time to leave, because I had to go straighten out our shit with the Syrians.

I totally loved Syria. The day before I was going to meet the president, they asked me if I wanted to see “John the Baptist”. I figured it would be cool to meet an American who has a church in Syria. But, when we got there, the only thing left of John was his head! WTF? What a hoot! Those Syrians are a pisser.

OK, OK. I know. What about the scarf-on-my-head thing? Truth is, at the time, I was so wrecked ‘shrooms I don’t even remember putting the goddamned thing on. After a while, I got to liking it, and, in fact, I am going to introduce a resolution in the House of Congress that will require everyone to wear a headscarf every Thursday as a show of solidarity with our Syrian friends. Yeah, I will expect the men to wear them too – sort of like the ones “Little Steven” wears. OMG, I am going to sooooo miss the Sopranos.

Anyway, the next day I got to meet with the president of Syria. I knew the meeting would be totally great, because he totally never took his eyes off my tits. Well, that’s not exactly true, because he tried to look up my dress as I crossed my legs. I made sure he got a peek. Try that kind of dimplomacy, ChimpyMcHitlerburton!

I told him about my serious talks with the very important people in Israel and how the people there really want to be friends, and I explained to him what the world needs now is love, sweet love – No, not just for some, but for everyone. Then I let him grab my tits.

Obviously, it worked! He told me that he was a big fan of Larry David.

This dimplomacy stuff is a total no-brainer.

I’m glad to be back in the U.S.A., because I ran out of Cristal and decent weed over there. I ended up having to settle for some shit that I got from our interpreter. It tasted like ass and barely gave me a buzz.

Besides, I had to get back because my friend Barbra Streisand is throwing a huge party for me at her house (We made up, but psssssst Don’t mention the “saggy tits” thing, OK?). People are going to pay to come. How totally awesome is that? For $150,000, they can actually sit with me. I’m thinking of offering special pricing: an ass fondle for $175,000 and a bare tit grab for $250,000.

God, how I love being the SPEAKER in the House.

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Dear Diary,

OMFG! What a totally awesome week, but I sure broke my award-winning SPEAKER ass getting important things done! I’m glad I found some time, a bottle of Cristal and a bit of decent herb so I can unwind and commit this important stuff to paper for future historians.

Being really smart and the SPEAKER in the House, I know that something has to be done about Mr. Stooooooopid’s war. He obviously has no idea what he is doing, and neither does that General Petrooney (or whatever his name is). “Surge?” Sounds to me like the shit Rosa uses to wash my underwear.

Anyway, everybody knows that President McHitlerburtonchimpymissionaccomplishedrunkcollegefratboydrugaddledmoron is a fascist dooofus and that General Petrooney (or whatever his name is) is just another one of those awful military “yessir” stooges who dresses himself up like a goddamned Christmas tree. (OMG, is this some great weed, or what?) Anyway, I figure that it’s time I put an end to this war. It need’s a brilliant woman’s touch.

So, a couple of us got together and drafted this totally awesome funding bill. (Memo to self: That guy Obey is a friggin’ weirdo. During our meetings, he never once looked at my ass. He’ll pay for that.) Anyhooooo, we put together this totally awesome bill that contains (what the hell did the lawyers call them?) — benchmarks! Yeah, that’s it – benchmarks. If the Iraqis don’t meet the benchmarks, WHAMMO, no more money! War over! Snap City!

I wanted to make one of the benchmarks that everyone in the Iraqi Army had to be able to recite all the lyrics to all Joan Baez’s songs in three months, but Jack Murtha said that the American people would realize what we were up to and, besides, he prefers Pete Seeger. He said I shouldn’t worry about the benchmarks though, because the Iraqis will never meet them, because they are fundamentally expendable douchebags. Jack really knows about this stuff.

Sooooo, I bring this totally awesome bill to the Democratic Caucus, and I find out that some of members don’t want to sign it!! WTF??? Several of them said shit like, “I don’t give a shit about the war (but I support the troops), but what’s in this bill for me?”

I decided that I’d have to wait to deal with these disloyal pricks in the future, because I had some history to make here.

Good goddamned thing I’m the SPEAKER in the House and that I have a fantastic ass, because I was able to persuade just about all of them to sign on.

The easy part was the money. I just told our guys to pony up a shitload of money for stuff like spinach, peanuts, oysters and Christ knows what else. Nooooo problem. It’s just money.

But, there were still some holdouts who claimed that they don’t “do” spinach, peanuts, or oysters. Here’s what I had to promise these sons-a-bitches.

Do you believe it, Dear Diary? Jack Murtha gave me a hard time in the end. I guess he knew I really needed his support, the brilliant guy that he is. I had to promise him that he could actually touch my cootchie! (Excuse me, but eeeewwwww). After all, we’re talking about the Pelosi Cootchie here, an Historic Coochie, goddammit! But, I said OK, because the good news is that by next week Murtha will have forgotten everything.

The Jersey Delegation was a royal pain in the ass too. One of them said, “Yo! Friggin’ peanuts? Are you friggin’ kiddin’ me? Do I look like Jimmy Carter here?”) The negotiations were rough. First, they wanted me to “dress” up like one of the Bada Bing! Dancers and do a pole dance for the next meeting of the Jersey Caucus. I agreed with that, because I do have a show-stopping ass and great tits, but was that enough? Nooooooo!! They also wanted me to service them like the Bada Bing! Girls service Tony and crew. I declined, but if I thought the bill was absolutely veto proof, I would have agreed.

We finally agreed that I would dress up like Carmela Soprano (I think I’d be an ass-kicking blonde), and at the next Caucus they could all wear ginny tees and say shit like, “Yo, Carm! Da friggin’ pasta’s cold!”) Those Jersey guys are a hoot! LOL.

The New York Delegation was easier. All I had to do to get their votes was to promise to dress up like a schoolgirl – you know, pigtails, white blouse, short plaid skirt, anklets and patent leather shoes? No problemo. I’ve already got a few of those outfits (Ted Kennedy likes them). Of course, they insisted that I don’t wear any panties. I’m OK with that, because of my fantastic ass and all.

OMG, being the SPEAKER in the House is totally awesome. I get to make goddamned history, and it’s totally goddamned awesome.

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Dear Diary,

OMG, I have been sooooo busy banging the gabel as SPEAKER in the House these past couple weeks. Gabel, this, gabel that. Gabel, gabel gabel! Now that I am the SPEAKER, so many really important people want to, like, SPEAK with me. It’s way cool.

But, OMFG, Tuesday was just freaking AWESOME!!! I got to sit in the big chair, behind President McHitlerburtonchimpymissionaccomplishedrunkcollegefratboydrugaddledmoron, while he made his stupid State of the Reunion Speech.

The television cameras were on me a lot of the time, because I looked really hot that night. The bad part was that I had to sit there and listen to Mr. Stoooooooooopid make his stoooooooopid speech, including the part where he talked about the troop splurge. Helllllo?? Mr. Stoooooooopid??? NOBODY thinks that splurging troops is a good idea. John Kerry said so, and he is really smart.

But, here’s the best part. All the while that Mr. Stoooooooopid is going on and on about the Reunion, I was text-messaging Hilly who was in the audience. It was a freakin’ HOOT!! I saved all our messages, and here they are.

Me: Hey Hilly, wassup? LOL!!
Hilly: OMFG. This is the pits!
Me: R U staying awake? LOL!!!
Hilly: I am but it ain’t easy. I was up late last night doing shots with Teddy. I feel like shit now. Ugh.
Me: Shots with Teddy? Always a riot! Did he ask you to shake your tits for him?
Hilly: Does a bear shit in the woods?
Me: So, did you give him a couple jiggles?
Hilly: Sure, and because he said nice things about me on “Meet the Press” I even let him give me a brumsky.
Me: A brumsky!!! ROFLMAO!! Hey, do I look hot tonight?
Hilly: F’n A!
Me: I know.
Hilly: I’ve been watching that boner nose Schumer. He keeps staring up there at your tits.
Me: Oh, him. I call him “Ferret Face”. You won’t freakin’ believe this shit. He sent me a dozen roses with a note that says he wants me to ride his baloney pony! LOL!!!
Hilly: No shit?
Me: No kidding, Hilly. And, he signed it “The Chuckster”! ROFLMAO!
Hilly: Too funny! Oh Jeez, Mr. Stooooooopid is still talking. I gotta pee. This sucks.
Me: I know. What R U doing after this crap is over?
Hilly: Back to my place. Wanna come over?
Me: Sounds awesome. U got any “special seasonings”?
Hilly: Ha ha. Is the Pope Catholic? I also have a few ounces of new talcum powder that Bill’s brother dropped off the other day. I think you’ll like the scent.
Me: Freakin’ AWESOME!
Hilly:Teddy just farted. I may puke. OMFG!
Me: Ewwwwwww ROFLMAO!!!
Hilly: Thank freakin’ God. It looks like Mr. Stoooooopid is finally done talking. Good thing too, b/c I gotta piss like a racehorse.
Me: OK C U later. Ur place.

So, I did go over to Hilly’s, where we drank a half dozen bottles of Cristal and sampled her special seasonings. And, oh that talcum powder was primo!!!! We were up all night sitting in Hilly’s kitchen in our panties, blabbing and taking turns banging the gabel. It was freakin’ far out! Hilly is a freakin’ pisser. LOL.!!!

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Dear Diary,

I am sooooooo pissed right now, you have no idea!

After I completed my excellent answers to the Christmas Meme, I thought it would be fun to send it on to Barbra Streisand, because I thought she is really smart and would have fun answering the questions. In fact, I was waiting for a phone call from her thanking me for my thoughtfulness.

But, did I get a phone call? No! Just as I was about to sit down with a bottle of Cristal and some quality herb, I got this freakin’ fax from Babs, in which she went all, like, Jewy on me! She called me a “stupid bitch” and said that she’d like to shove the meme up my ass!

I cannot believe that Hilly and I had planned to invite her to White House parties once Hilly is elected President, with ME as her Vice-President. Hell, we even had the pork-nosed bitch on the short list to become the UN Ambassador. Well, she can damned well forget about that now.

As far as I’m concerned, ol’ Saggy Tits can kiss my traffic-stopping SPEAKER ass!