And let me tell you, Mudville it was. The Coach’s team went down …. again. This time, they were only down 3-0 until the final 4 minutes of the game. It was wet and sloppy. So wet, in fact, that I went to the game in one set of clothes … and came home in another set. Well, another shirt, at least. My feet are still slightly soggy.
It’s just been one of those days, I guess. My Evil Black Dog punched me in the face this morning. Yeah, you read that right. I was sitting on the floor, tying up my boots when EBD smacked me in the nose and mouth with his paw … hard enough that I actually cried, and I am so *not* a cryer. It fucking hurt. My nose still hurts and it’s been about 16 hours since he smacked me. of course, EBD showed great remose when I started to cry. He sat next to me and whined. Ugh.
The good news, however, is that I am a cool kid. Oh yes, I am going to a Halloween Party tomorrow night. I’ve been thinking about my costume for a couple of weeks now. You see, I am going to go as my intepretation of a G (well, PG or maybe PG-13) version of a Suicide Girl. (That is the “safe for work” link. If you want to see the NSFW link, click here. I advise TQE and CQ not to go too far in the site or you’ll end up seeing girl boobies.) I have cut my hair and dyed it an “appropriate for work color” that is as close to black as the chick at the beauty parlor was willing to go. You should have heard the comments I got today; someone actually called me “hip.” 
I have to dig out some earrings; I’m hoping that I can still get them into all three holes in my left ear, but I suspect that might be a lost cause. I need to go to the store tomorrow for make up, an appropriate neck decoration, and — if I can find them — some fish net hose. I have clothes that I can mix and match into an “angry feminist” meets Goth Girl meets Catholic school girl look; I already have the tattoo, the facial piercing, the garter belt, and, above all, the bitchy attitude. I’m probably way too old to be called a girl by anyone, but seeing how I am always getting mistaken for a student, I should be okay. After all, I am fairly wrinkle-free. Who knows, I might even dig out my whip (don’t ask – it’s a long story)?
