Saw this three hours ago. Still can’t stop laughing.
There’s this awesome award going around called The Dragon’s Loyalty Award (I mean, dragon. I rest my case.) I’ve been nominated by the lovely Precarious Writer (The blog’s name alone should motivate you to check her out.)
So, I have to share seven different facts about myself (rules follow at the end of the post.) All right.
So, if this were C.S. she’d write a bunch of deep, interesting writerly stuff, and she’d probably mention Malala, because Malala is awesome and we need to help her change the world.
But I’m crazy and superficial, so, without further adue:
1. I’m Batman. No, seriously, I am, and this lame assface here is Bruce Wayne.
2. I cannot stand Nicki Minaj. Or the Kardashians.
3. I wanna braid Brock O’Hurn’s hair.
4. Imagine Dragons is one of the best bands out there. Ah, look at that! Dragons again. I’m awesome.
5. My best friend looks a bit like Amy Schumer.
But maybe that’s because she’s white and blond, and all white and blond people look the same to me.
6. Does anyone feel like nachos? I always feel like nachos.
7. Tina Fey is my spirit animal.
Now, I’m supposed to nominate 15 people. That’s a lot and I’m lazy, so here’s ten:
Anyway, here’s more Brock for you.
Here are the rules for the award!
The Dragon’s Loyalty Award is meant to acknowledge those who regularly read and comment on your blog. The rules for it are pretty simple:
–Show off your achievement by displaying the award.
–Link back to the person who bestowed this award upon you.
–Nominate up to 15 of your regular readers (less than 15 is just fine, though).
–Let them know that they’ve been nominated.
–Share 7 interesting facts about yourself.
(I just wanted to be able to cross off all the items.)
I face farting as a lost art rather than a normal biological function. I’m constantly trying to improve myself in this field, and my husband is my biggest supporter.
Sometimes I lean over and stare deep within his eyes, and he obviously thinks I’m about to kiss him, but he’s so wrong, because yeah, I’m farting. It’s super romantic. Usually he farts back with triple the power and we laugh and laugh. It never gets old. This is how I know I married the right guy.
(Though one time his fart was so powerful that I tasted it, and it was disgusting as fuck, like a mix of rotten eggs and whatever comes out of Kim Kardashian’s plastic surgeries.)
I threw up a little back then, but at the same time, I was really proud of him.
During my fart trainings, I often focus on swiftness, though I’ll also work on the smell over noise ratio. It really depends on the social situation and how badly concentrated the gas is.
I can also echo-fart, which is a fart so ninja that people will hear it from the opposite side of the room and blame it on the fat guy standing there, when the truth is, the fart came from where they’d least expect.
I did that to my husband once, and his mother was all like, “Ferdinand, I did not raise you so badly!” It was awesome.
(PS: His name is not Ferdinand. I changed it for anonymity reasons, Keith Lemon style.)
Anyway, husband has been trying to get me back for that to this day. Whether he succeeds remains to be seen.
Have you ever tried echo-farting?
So, the wonderful Akhiz nominated me for this one, and I thought, “Yaaaasssssss!”
The rules of the quote challenge are:
Thank the person who nominated you.
Post a quote each day for 3 days.
Each day nominate 3 bloggers to take part.
All right. Since the life of a kick-ass princess is super hard (with all the kickassery pertained to the job role), I’ll share with you all three sentences right now instead of doing it in three consecutive days.
So here we go:
And the nominees are:
Sorry, just wanted you to hear
You guys, seriously, this movie is the best movie ever.
Like, there’s this guy (Richard Harris) who accidentally kills a baby orca, and then Mamma orca is super pissed, because come on, wouldn’t you be pissed if someone killed your baby?
Mamma orca had my vote from the start (sorry, Richard Harris.)
And then I kinda started narrating the movie to my BFF. It went on like this:
“The whale just destroyed half of random harbor town, literally, half of the town blew up, all thanks to the whale. Best movie ever. This whale is awesome.”
“The acting is super serious by the way. The movie really takes itself in earnest. I mean, an orca blew up half a town and everyone is like “Oh, you messed up with the mighty orca,” like yeah, it’s super normal for a whale to blow things up and chase you every time you’re near the water. Like, the whale knows you now, and you’re fucked. Whale is gonna blow you up.
I have a new found respect for all actors in this movie.”
“Okay, the orca was destroying the entire town
(kindda stupid to have a town balanced over some wooden pillars underwater, specially since the townspeople were not surprised by the orca’s badassery, which tells me this might have happened before.) Anyway, people told Richard Harris he had to get his shit together and go face the whale, but he didn’t, so the Orca sunk his freaking house and bit a woman’s leg off.”
“Okay, so Richard Harris was pissed because his friend lost her leg and decided to go hunt the whale (FINALLY). He left with this cute woman (who was not the same woman who lost her leg), his BFF, and an Indian guy. Not like Indian-Indian, but like Native American-Indian.”
“The whale just jumped over the boat and took the BFF with her. Now the whale is leading them to the arctic and there are icebergs and shit. This whale is so smart, it has to be a mutant or something. Actually, Native-American-guy said the whale was GOD INCARNATED. In these exact words. Native-American-guy is such a drama queen.”
“OMG, this woman is so cheap. She literally just said, “Come closer, I’ll warm you.” Like, Richard Harris was sad because his BFF died, and now he is gonna have sex to feel better.“
“Okay, they didn’t have sex.”
“Did I mention Richard Harris looks at least 60 in this movie? I wish I can be hunting killer whales in the arctic when I’m sixty…no, I don’t, actually. Killer whales are adorable and I could never kill them. Also, whale is gonna blow you up.”
Best Poster Ever.
“Jaws could learn a thing or two from this whale, just saying. I mean, it blew up half a town, destroyed Richard Harris’ house, bit a woman’s leg off, and now it smashed against an iceberg to bury Native-American-guy under huge chunks of ice. Shitty way to die in a killer whale movie, man. I mean, the whale should’ve had at least the decency to explode him.”
“The whale just sank the ship and now Richard Harris and pretty woman are running on icebergs. OMG, the whale just stranded Richard Harris on an iceberg.”
“This whale is a freaking genius.”
“The whale killed Richard Harris by throwing him against an ice berg wall. It did not eat him, it did not drag him to the depths of the ocean, it did not explode him. No. It threw him against an iceberg and smashed his skull.
This whale is a bad-ass mother-fucker.”
The lesson we can all take from this? Sea World is royally fucked, people. You can mess with sharks and wild bears, but you do NOT MESS WITH AN ORCA.
PS: This whale should get a freaking Oscar with some 38 years delay, but it’s the tought that counts.
The fart echoed in the room
And the smell followed,
the smell of doom.
Okay, okay, now a serious one:
Poem # 1
(This one is more in C.S’ neighborhood, so you know it will be boring.)
She wrote the letter with a single tear
It escaped her eye,
tracked down her cheeks,
landed on her chin and stood there
Like a stalactite
waiting to fall
Aaaaand back to the kickassery:
Monday sucks. Is it weekend yet?
I wish it was.
My Haikus are the best.
You’re gonna be freaked out by this.
*Don’t say I didn’t warn you with a creepy whispery voice*
Being Princess Kickass is awesome. It’s so much cooler than being C.S. Wilde.
C.S. Wilde has to think twice before she writes a post or makes a comment, because she’s supposed to be this serious author (well, as much as she can). You know, that whole “With great power comes great responsibility” yadda yadda, which SUCKS, by the way.
I wanna be free and say dumb shit and do whatever I freaking want. I wouldn’t be Princess Kickass if I didn’t.
(my) our head, C.S. is talking about gaining a readership, and engaging with readers and marketing strategies, and John Braver and Santana Jones, and she’s talking about this emerald statue in a freaking church, and meanwhile, all I care about is having some sushi and watching Jon Snow’s gloriousness in Game of Thrones, wondering if Kit Harrington would EVER star in Magic Mike, cause it would be so awesome if he lost all that innocence to an older woman, like a cougar, and although I’m some ten years behind becoming a cougar, I’d put all the fake make-up necessary to get that part, and I promise you, JON SNOW WOULD KNOW STUFF WITH ME.
See? Totally different goals.
Anyway, C.S. is asking me if I wouldn’t mind giving a shout out to her
(lame) author blog, because she’s trying to gain a readership to make a living, and it turns out her writing is not thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat bad. Okay, it’s terrible.
So if you have time, do check her out.
I also made a deal with her. I told her I want my memoirs published at some point in time. She said no, because her memoirs are my memoirs, and I get it, she’s shy, but boy, do we have enough material for a HYSTERICAL memoir.
So I cursed her crops, and her dog, and her cow, and she agreed to write the memoir as long as I lifted the curse. Which I did (and she doesn’t even have a cow, crops, or a dog! Stupid…)
But I can bring the curse back any time I freaking want (especially upon her non-existing cow).
Just needed to remind her of that.
So it’s official people, I ‘m getting my memoirs!
Dear Princess from the future,
Buy some chocolate. You always need chocolate. Trust me on this. Seriously.
Why is there no chocolate inspired superhero, by the way? Like Milkywayman, or Twix of Fate, Mars Attack, The Cruncher…the possibilities are endless here, people.
Anyway, buy some chocolate.
Princess from the past
“Dude, how big is your penis?” Dave asked.
Jeremy stared at his friend, choking slightly with the pot-smoke going down his throat. “Dude! You can’t ask that to a bro!”
“Of course you can, come on.” Dave inhaled. “Bro to bro, man.”
Jeremy squinted at him. “Bro to bro?”
Dave exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It’s the code. A bro can request a view of his bro’s penis at any given time. I’m sure it’s written somewhere.”
After careful consideration, Jeremy shrugged. “All right, then. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
So Jeremy stood up and pulled down his pants.
The smoke stopped mid-way Dave’s throat and all he could mutter was, “You’re a freak of nature, bro.”
Jeremy chuckled as he zipped his pants. “That’s what she said,bro.” He gave Dave a high-five but his friend was flabbergasted and could barely move.
After a long while in silence, Dave said, “Bro.”
“I think I’m gay.”
Jeremy stared at Dave in silence. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Not the first time it happens, bro.”