FLF: Like A Booger I Can't Flick Off My Finger

Yeah, FLF is still here. I never got the time this week to work on my nifty idea that I mentioned last week. So FLF is here to stay for now. I always threaten to leave FLF behind, but it gives me that pouty face and I go running back.

Sucker.

Let's get this pahtee stahted......

Dear Giant Dill Pickle Tara,

I obviously made a mistake and overestimated your level of intelligence. I merely patted you on the back and congratulated you when you said you were going to get your botched boobs fixed. Silly me. Clearly, I should have been holding your hand and directed you over to a decent plastic surgeon instead of leaving you to your own devices. I should have at least told you that Craigslist probably isn’t a good place to find a reputable surgeon. It’s a lot like getting a “reputable masseuse” on Craigslist but at least with those guys, you get a happy ending. It appears your surgeon ran out of saline bags and opted for produce instead. The one on the left clearly looks like a mango and the other one is a toss up between a giant grapefruit or a honey dew melon, either way, it doesn’t look like its safe for consumption anymore.
Or maybe the surgeon was trying to be make your boobs cutting edge and multifunctional by installing a GPS tracking system in there. It would’ve been an ingenious idea, except for the fact that it appears to be broken. One boob wants to go straight and the other boob clearly wants you to go to hell.

My sincerest apologies Tara. I hope you can forgive me, but even if you don’t, can you please tell that old man face on your stomach to stop mean muggin’ me. I’m getting scared.



Love, Me.


Dear Readers,

I’m NOT writing this to Britney because I’ve done it before and it doesn’t work. Plus, I’m not going to burden her with a hard task like reading, because lord knows, that poor hamster inside her head is tired of running around the rusty wheel. In fact, I’m pretty sure if you opened up her head (once you get past the Wal-Mart weave) you’d see the rusty wheel spinning slowly with a dead hamster beside it.
No, I’m not writing a letter to her. I’m writing a letter to YOU dear reader. Does ANYONE…. ANYWHERE…know how to MAKE THIS THING GO AWAY??

Someone’s gotta have an elephant gun in their closet that’s just gathering dust right? Can we just club her over the head and pretend she never existed? Her parents were smart enough to bring a spare, can we just replace her with Jamie Lynn Spears? They’re practically the same, …minus the KFed stains, the itchy scalp, the alchy bloat, the plantars warts, the Cheetoh dust stained fingers, the skid marks on her panties…well..you get the picture, even though I know you wish you didn’t.

I'm makin' a comeback ya'll!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY.

Love, Me.

Dear Person Who Ate Val Kilmer,

I don’t know who you think you are eating the IceMan, but you better pull a Nicole Ritchie and regurgitate that man this instant!!

Love, Me.
















I really hope Val Kilmer is doing that for a movie role because I saw this white legged midget at the airport a couple years back. He was a tiny tiny guy...totally dashed my IceMan fantasies! Not to mention the fact that he had the NERVE to wear shorts when his legs where frozen chicken white and appeared to be from the toothpick family. Although judging from this picture, I think he fixed that problem with a few servings of fried bacon and ice cream sandwiches.

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND EVERYBODY!!!!!