If you threw a party, bled on all the people you knew...thank you for being a friend...

Hello,

Sometimes a blogger has to put the good times, irony and sarcasm away.

Sometimes.

In all my 31 years I never thought I would write the words: good times, irony and sarcasm in the same sentence with the words put and away in them. But alas, I never thought I would know a grown man who tends a crystal figurine collection either.

So, here we are now...
Both of us lonely...

Over the weekend I had the opportunity to get drunk at a bachelorette party with a lot of good friends. Not only did we get drunk, but we played games, danced and shared stories. Everybody was having a good time. I was having such a good time, I also passed out on, puked and bled over my three, very bestest friends. And to top it all off: we ended up in the emergency room while I got stitched up (and puked and passed out some more)!

What lucky girl gets to lay claim to that?

Furthermore, what lucky girl keeps her friends after subjecting them to that sort of degradation?

Let's roll out today's blogger bit on Pistola Whipped gets a life...

Pistola Whipped wouldn't be alive unless these three people weren't around to RULE!



KIWI!



JENNEE 'PF, JAVIER, SOUTHPAW, PONCHO Y LEFTY, DAL-DAL' DALAGER

And last but not least...



The most fabulous aspiring physician's assistant ever...KIMI LUSCHEN (she's the one receiving a kiss, naturally).

Thanks ladies! You are SIMPLY THE BEST! Here's a send-off photo of four other ladies who know a little something about friendship...



To my Golden Girls!

Pistola Whipped reads as a play...grows old

Hello,

Part I
My computer has its own personality.

Does yours?

Do you like your computer's personality?

Does your computer's personality reflect your own?

Do you have a personality?

I think my computer has more personality than Pistola Whipped.

Sometimes when I'm writing my blog or doing very important Internet searches about "The Hills" or on A.C. Slater images, my screen suddenly goes BLACK! I have to shut my laptop, cry softly and quit searching.

Hence the no blogging. Hence digging up my old issues of Teen Beat to find A.C. Slater images.

Part II
I spent a large portion of my day outdoors, enjoying the balmy, sunny, globally-warmed weather. I didn't use any sunscreen and now I think I have stage 4 skin cancer.

I'm not even sunburnt.

Being old = being paranoid about mortality.

Pistola Whipped gets a life by getting old.



Good times,
PistOLDa Whipped

Friends, blog criticism and countesses...

Hello,

How depressed are you?

Come on. I asked you first...

It's okay. You can tell me. I'm your friend, lover, compadre, bridge partner, flatmate, sidekick, confidante, the cup for your coffee, the ace in your hole. Did that last one sound a little dirty?

Listen, if we threw a party and invited everyone one we knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from and the card attached would say, 'thank you for being a friend'.

I had some negative criticism about Pistola Whipped gets a life the other day. Can you believe I actually got some feedback on this blog? I nearly dropped dead when someone acknowledged to me in person they had read this blog, or at least scanned it.

The negative criticism I received was this, 'it has too many words.' Let's not dwell too much on the fact that I specifically asked this person what they thought of my blog and before that it hadn't come up in the conversation. I wasn't even sure they had read it, so needless to say I was flattered that it had been read by anyone at all. Before this conversation I thought I could say with some certainty that I was the only person who viewed this blog.

But, I was wrong. And it feels good to be wrong, because it's the feeling I know the best (besides shame and guilt).

And it's really beside the point who this person was, although I have to admit they bore a strong resemblence to Jennee 'PF' Dalager's imaginary friend.

Here's today bit...

Pistola Whipped gets a life by wanting to be this person(s)...

Yeah, I'm not exactly sure I know who this person is other than she is a Countess and she's on the best (or worst) reality TV show EVER-The Real Whores of NYC. I guess her name is Countess LuAnn de Lesseps. Countess HoAnn de Lepers.

I want to be a total skank/socialite/drunk and marry into royalty then become a stuck-up skank/socialite/drunk with lots of money. My life would be complete.