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.

Cold slash The Hills slash Cat Lady

H-h-h-h-e-l-l-o-o-o-o,

That was me using hyphens and extra letters to indicate how cold it is in Minneapolis today.

Kinda like b-r-r-r-r-r....and kinda like the cold makes me surly, mean and lame.

It's fucking cold.

Two thoughts crossed my mind today, which is a lot for me. If you don't mind, Mom, I'm gonna spit them out so I can go on with my day. I don't think I can fully enjoy season 2 of Dexter properly with any sort of thinking going on...

List of things Pistola needs to do tonight:
1. Watch Dexter season 2

K. I digress. Lists. Dexter. Thoughts.

Thought I:

Lucinda Williams wrote a song called "Minneapolis" and recorded it. This song is great. Mom, you should download it on iTunes insta-style. My friend and co-worker Jen talked about the song today and I made words like 'heart' and 'cherish' come out of my mouth to explain how I feel about that song. I heart Minneapolis the song. The actual city can suck it. I'm just kidding, MPLS. I just meant for today. I take it back! I normally heart you too. Don't snow 2 feet tonight and impound my car.

Jesus. This city is a ball-breaker.

Thought II:

The thought-provoking (as evidenced in the thoughts that were provoked in me) and revolutionary MTV show "The Hills" resumes on Monday, April 6. I will still be 30 when the first episode of the new season astounds and stupifies us all. I will be 31 by the time the next episode airs a week later. Can I be grandfathered in so I can watch the remainder of the season without feeling like a loser/phony/freak/cat lady? Or am I already past that point? Perhaps I am already those things because I simply watch "The Hills". Or maybe I was those things before I started watching "The Hills". Oh, the thoughts that are happening. OMG. I think tomorrow's post will be Pistola Whipped is ashamed because of the previous day's post.

FINE THEN!

Off to crawl into bed.

Sincerely,
Cat Lady

Remembrance of Prior Blogs/Down with Poppy...

Hello,

OMG!

I forgot that my very second post on Pistola Whipped gets a life was a bit. So, sit right back folk(s) as we take a stroll down the blogger lane of blogger bits.

Recall many, many, many weeks ago to March 3 when I busted Pistola Whipped gets a life onto the world. I've really shaken things up On Here, and by On Here, I mean Earth.

The first and by far the deepest bit on PWGAL was called Pistola Whipped gets a life by cutting down others. Morrissey was the big winner (or loser). I've found it most depressing that Morrissey has probably made enough money to buy a Brillo Pad factory since I posted that bit. Alas, the woe that is me in my Morrissey-inspired velvet smoking jacket.

But, as they say in the business, that's simply how the blogging cookie crumbles.

Fast forward to tonight whilst watching the British movie 'Happy-Go-Lucky'. I was so disturbed by the main character, Poppy, that I decided to crown the second person in Pistola Whipped gets a life by cutting down others...

What disturbed me the most was the little suck-in, inhalation noise Poppy made after she laughed. And she laughed through the whole goddamn movie.

Here's what I imagine the script for 'Happy-Go-Lucky' looked like:

Scene I

Masochistic Driving Instructor: Poppy, you're a fucking bitch-ass wanker. I hate your fucking stupid guts.

Poppy: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, weird suck-in inhalation noise, ha, ha, ha.

Masochistic Driving Instructor: Poppy, I stalked you and your fucking wanker boyfriend and now I'm going to strangle your fucking neck.

Poppy: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, weird suck-in inhalation noise, ha, ha, ha.

I think that movie won a Golden Globe. And by won a Golden Globe, I mean bought a Golden Globe with the money Poppy made from endorsing Breathe Right strips post-production.

Sincerely,
Pistola Wankered

Porcupines and Home Ownership

Hello Fellow Humans and Porcupines,

How are you today?

Once again I had to pull crusty, yellowed Pistola Whipped gets a life from my backseat and resurrect it to its former glory, prestige and mediocrity. Not an easy task, mind you...but with today's crisp, clean, Midwestern air blowing into my rotting lungs, I was faced with no other choice.

While I was digging around in my backseat today, tossing empty Funyon bags and plastic earring cards devoid of their 1992 earring splendor away, I realized there is a stark difference between this post and last Friday's post: Pistola became a home-owner.

I think that I may have moved a step in the right direction to finding a life.

Here are the questions I have so far:

1.) How am I going to pay for said house?
2.) Will I actually be able to tune Channel 45 in at my house?
3.) How will my crappy belongings look in my nice, new house?
4.) Will my friend Jennee Dalager give me a member of a crystal porcupine family as a house-warming gift?
5.) If so, what family member?
6.) Will my cats get along with it?
7.) How do I clean crystal, especially crystal with quills?

Hopefully I will find those answers, perhaps with the help from my dear reader(s).

At any rate, I am moving into my house with a person some people refer to as my boyfriend. We have this thing we call a relationship. We figured instead of piling up more and more of our junk in a space we rent, we should just do it in a place we owe lots of money on for the rest of our lives.

Why not?

The excitement is there regarding this whole home ownership thing: tangible, real, scary and big. I've always lived this life thinking I would own a home, be involved in a lovely and messy relationship, have a career, perhaps start a family...ya know, become an adult, but instead I've always just screwed things up. I make a wrong choice or make no choice at all and all just kinda passes me by. And now here I am, engaging in my own life. It's weird.

Somebody! Stick me with a porcupine quill to wake me up.

Loverboy really knows how to sum up life

Well, how-do-you-do strangers?

Friday finally came. I truly can't believe it. During the course of this week I managed to offend one of my best friends, slug through a Minnesota snowstorm, almost hit a bike rider, invest all my savings in Rax fast-food restaurants only to lose it and find out that a crystal porcupine family set costs roughly $500.

One could say that's a busy week. Pistola, one could go on to say, you deserve several dangerously cold ones...

So, let's crack right into the first one here on Pistola Whipped gets a life: 2-4-1s.

BEST SONG ABOUT THE WEEKEND and arguably by a CANADIAN:

Everybody's workin' for the weekend...
Everybody wants a little romance...
Everybody's goin' off the deep end...
Everybody needs a second chance
LEG KICK!

Why would I try to write anything better when those Canadian cut-ups Loverboy already wrote it best?!

And number two:



Had to do it! Now go out and make Loverboy proud!

P.Whipped