Anagram Managar

Close enough.

THIS is for you, Hotdamn.


I hardly believe it myself...

Hey, I'm not all bad jokes and suppressed anger. I had the smarts real good once. See for yourself when you read my paper on IDEOLOGICAL FUNCTION. Go on. Get yerself some smarts.


Calling you out

I need one more blogger, just ONE, to make the t-shirt trade successful. Any takers?

Tragedy Strikes Tub

OKLAHOMA - (AP) This was the shocking scene early this morning when regular shower-goers made a gruesome discovery. Tragedy struck the S.S. Fisher-Price, a plastic passenger ship carrying what could be up to 12 Barbie dolls, leaving massive latex carnage in its wake. Among the dead are: Millenium Princess Barbie, Sohpisticated Wedding Barbie, Halloween Barbie, Barbie Princess, Malibu Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, Sparkle Eyes Barbie, Cinderella Barbie, and several unidentified My Scene Dolls. The Barbie Dream Estate had no comment at press time.


Gettin' Lazy in my Upper Years

Parts of this chat not effecting the outcome have been edited for time.

NewYorkPlastic: and i'm nude now so i don't think you'd wanna see..
NewYorkPlastic: AGH!
workerbee818: ugh.
NewYorkPlastic: dammit
workerbee818: skinny newd.
NewYorkPlastic: hahaha
NewYorkPlastic: SkiNNyNudiKins
workerbee818: HAHAHAHAHAH
workerbee818: gross.
workerbee818: yer making me dry hump heave
NewYorkPlastic: hahaha
NewYorkPlastic: < s>test< /s>
NewYorkPlastic: dammit
NewYorkPlastic: how'd you do that witch?
workerbee818: < strike >
workerbee818: HAHA
NewYorkPlastic: < strike >mylife< strike >
NewYorkPlastic: dammit
NewYorkPlastic: < strike> my life < strike>
NewYorkPlastic: fuk it
workerbee818: it's /strike
workerbee818: my life
NewYorkPlastic: /strikecrap
NewYorkPlastic: LMAO
workerbee818: oh.
workerbee818: tobes
NewYorkPlastic: i'm laughing to keep from cutting myself for punishment
workerbee818: it's like this crap
workerbee818: i put the spaces in because if i don't i can't show you
workerbee818: crap
workerbee818: now if the html lesson is over
workerbee818: you can continue secret cutting
NewYorkPlastic: hahaha
workerbee818: hahaha
NewYorkPlastic: < strike>cunt
workerbee818: the hell
workerbee818: why isn't yours working
NewYorkPlastic: FUSHICKENS!
NewYorkPlastic: cause i'm black
workerbee818: it really is The Man™ keeping you down
workerbee818: boy

5th is the 4th loser

I'm #5 on Google when you search for FIT THROWING HELL RIDE! I rock your face off.


Lo res is better than no res

I bought a seriously lo-res web cam today at Wal-Mart for $18. Here is a picture of me from a minute ago [sorry about the scary eyebrows, I haven't plucked in about a month]:

And here is a picture of me and my little cousin Dayla:

Again, sorry about the brows.

I hope you are all doing well this evening. I'm sorry I have nothing interesting or funny to post.

R.I.P. Robert Palmer

I loved you once.

More BlogWorthy AIM Chat

I know, I know, it's almost as lazy as Boz re-posting his "Favorite Posts" for days on end, but this is really funny. HD always gives good chat:

workerbee818: i watched that fred durst thing on mtv
hotdamndoyle: NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
workerbee818: and besides the fact that he's lame enough for just being fred durst he was all wet-eyed over that britney spears debaucle
workerbee818: he was like "I wish she would just tell the truth, because i really, really like that girl"
workerbee818: then he was like looking at a picture of her going "she's so beautiful, she's just so beautiful man"
hotdamndoyle: someone should really, just pummel him till he bursts into flames
workerbee818: i wasl ike YOU FUCKING PANSY ASS
hotdamndoyle: man, i thought i was a bitch's tool
hotdamndoyle: jesus
workerbee818: i mean they spent like 10 minutes on that shit
workerbee818: it was so queer
hotdamndoyle: he sure is one big ole puss
workerbee818: i mean really it's on right now
workerbee818: he's such a lame ass
hotdamndoyle: i'm just watin for him to start referin to himself in the third person
hotdamndoyle: "Fred thinks that Fred is tight."
workerbee818: if i ever see him i'm going to give him a good limp wristed slap in the face with a pair of leather gloves
workerbee818: HAHAHAHAHAHA
hotdamndoyle: i wish i could throw him into the sun
workerbee818: "fred durst does not feel that fred durst should have to answer any questions, per se, about or pertaining to fred durst, and fred durst's current business or personal situations, quid pro quo, e pluribus unum"
workerbee818: i wish you could too
hotdamndoyle: "Fred Durst says, 'Please love me. Please like me. I hurt, yo.'"
workerbee818: HAHAHA
You Can't Afford me

But, if you could, you'd pay with this:


I've got throat demons

I'm sick, and in pain. Whatever it is my throat is burning like I've got some sort of esophageal herpes. Not that there is such a thing, but if there was, then I'm pretty sure it would feel like this.

I just wanted to remind everybody to stay away from downed power lines.


It's come to this

Only one thing could make me think I am hilarious for writing this jewel:

chezpink: oh workerbee
chezpink: how art thou
workerbee818: how great thou art
chezpink: yes, LORD
chezpink: yes

Well, maybe a mixture of two things: Percocet and Budweiser.

Thank you, folks. Thank you all.
Goals are Good

At least, that's what my Life Management class in middle school taught me. That, and how to cook a chicken.

Anyhow, my goal for the rest of 2003 is to be #1 on Google when someone searches for


I'd like to thank you all in advance for helping me reach this goal.

Kindest regards...



The T-Shirt Trade is ON!!!

I've received all the entries, and have made my randomly drawn choices as to who will be secret pal-ing whom. The Pals were drawn completely at random and you will be getting your Pal's info shortly. However, I'd like to take this time to answer some frequently asked questions pertaining to The Trade©.

Is it ok if the shirt I send doesn't reflect where I live, but is still cool?

In the 1930s, when I decided to take on the challenge of building a successful T-Shirt Trade from the ground up, my original idea was to offer bloggers and readers the chance to receive endless fun in the form of a free gift! A cotton, screen-printed t-shirt from a Secret Pal that would reflect an area of the world the blogger had most likely never been. In retrospect, I suppose I saw it as a way of making our ever shrinking virtual world even smaller, almost miniscule, by introducing a tactile element to our separate existences. And, also, in doing so, creating a visual conversation starter amongst our real-life human friends. However, I do not want to stunt or stifle your options, so buy whatever you think is cool!

Who else is participating? Or will that ruin the mystery?

I thought about this for a little while, thinking I may post the names of the participants, but I think it will be more fun if we don't know how many participants we have or who they are. So, it could be anyone from anywhere and you have no clue as to whom. FUN!!!

Will you get something fun out of this, too??

Sadly, I could not join in because there would be no Secret in my Secret Pal. I will, however, get the satisfaction of adding even more FUN!!! and excitement to our little blogging community, and hopefully, maybe setting a precendent for years to come.

So, Bloggers, be on the lookout for an e-mail from me and then GET TO SEARCHING FOR THE PERFECT T-SHIRT!!!! Remember, you have until December 31 to find and mail that perfect t-shirt for your Secret Pal. It is also perfectly acceptable to send a note, card, postcard, or any other tchotchkes you think would be suitable for your Pal. They key here is not to spend a bunch of money, however, but to send something with a little thought behind it.

Thanks to everyone for participatingand making the First Annual Tentatively Titled X-mas Tanenbaum T-shirt Trade and Exchange successful.






I have only 4 entries. So where are all you regular readers and bloggers? What has happened to our community? Please, enter, and get gifts!!! In fact, everyone who enters will get a sweet little package from me, your ATLSuperstar, working hard for your community.

SEND ME your



Please. If you are a man I will send you boob shots. If you are a woman I will send you something more substantial.



Crush the First

When I was in middle school, I had a series of crushes. Like most making the transition from adolescence to teenhood, it was a new one every single week. Most of them were not reciprocated. I don't blame them. I was an incredible dork in middle school and would not have dated me either. But I treated each crush like it was the love of my life. Oh, the drah-ma.

Then, over the summer between 8th and 9th grade, the transition into high school, I finally began to look human. I got a perm and bobbed my hair (hey, it was the late 80s), wore shirts with the collars up, and finally learned how to apply makeup, instead of just slapping it on my face and looking like an over-cheesed Dorito.

So, anyway, a few weeks into the first high school semester, a new kid came to town. And he was HOT STUFF. Seriously. It was the 80s folks. Anyway, this guy was like fucking Jesus and it was the old stand-by cliche "Every guy wanted to be his pal and every girl wanted to be his gal." But he was too cool for the guys at my school. He was far too sophisticated for the cheerleaders and socialites. He was tall, dark haired with the most stunning ocean blue eyes. His eyes were accentuated by these baby blue rimmed glasses and the way he always wore blue plaid collared shirts. He was so seriously my C-O-O-L-R-I-D-E-R. His name was Keile Alexander.

Anyway, my biggest rival, and she really wasn't MY rival, although I may have been hers, was my neighbor, a chunky, dishwater blonde who always thought she was better than me. Even though she would always say "supposably" and "For your inFRO." One day on the bus I was like "Yeah, for your inFRO, it's INFO, bitch" and that pretty much sealed our fate as mortal enemies. Her name was KERI SUE. KERI SUE! How motherfucking Texan. Keri Sue was so set on being "deep" and "different" that one day she got on the bus with a brown belt wrapped and buckled around her head. My sister and I so seriously pointed and laughed. I had to give it to her, though. She wore that lame ass Seventeen Magazine idea around her head all day long.

Anyway, she tried very aggressively to hook up with the heavenly Keile Alexander. Walking him to class, following him around, etc. But, it didn't work. She was too shallow and small-town for him. Long story short, I took the subtle route and won. I won I won I won. Keile Alexander was mine, all mine and I made sure everyone, especially Keri Sue, knew. Not only had I won the attention of the Cool Rider, we began to really care about each other. Loved each other, even, in that sweet, virginal, fourteen year old way. However, my glorious victory was short-lived.

One morning, Keile didn't come to school. He was prone to skipping a few classes every now and then and I assumed he'd at least come in for lunch to see me, like he had before. When he didn't show up at lunch, I got a little worried, because the night before we had talked and everything seemed normal. We even said "See you tomorrow." He never came back.

His family had severe domestic problems. I'm pretty sure his dad abused them. An acquaintance who was a neighbor of his gave me the news. In the middle of the night, his mom had packed them up and escaped from the abusive father. They ran away, where nobody, not even their father, and let alone the love-sick girlfriend, could find them. I never saw or heard from him again.

Where'd you go, Keile Alexander? Where have you been for the past 14 years?

I never got to tell you good-bye.


Will the Real QHagewood Please Stand Up?

Someone with the name QHagewood keeps AIMing me and then when I respond, the AutoResponse comes up. Who is it? Who are you? Dunno. If it's you, let me know, we'll chat. I'm a good chatter. I'm chatting up Bozley as I type this.

I fear a set-up

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Hark! Who is that, stalking amidst the plains! It is ATLSuperstar, hands clutching two hardened pitas! She cries homicidally:

"I'm going to brutalize you into the fast lane, and add a notch to my bedpost!"

Find out!
Enter username:
Are you a girl, or a guy ?

created by beatings : powered by monkeys


David Blaine is the Devil

That is all. I am sure of it.


When nothing else is one...

I just finished watching Out of Sight, which, despite J-lo, is a great movie. Steven Soderbergh can do no wrong. Any man who thinks he can put Confederacy of Dunces on film is fine by me. And George Clooney ain't nothin' to thumb yer nose at, either. He will be mine.

Besides, my friend Paul Soileau is in the movie. You know at the beginning, when Luis Guzman and George Clooney are in the yard at the prison? My friend Paul, whom I met when I was at Loyola, plays Lulu, the Guzman's bitch. I haven't seen him in anything since, though, and I haven't seen him since right after he came back to New Orleans after filming that movie. I gave him back the furniture he let me borrow for the summer. It was so trashy and ghey. It was green faux velvet with those wooden arm rests. Hideous.

Anyway, that's my 2 degrees of separation from George Clooney and wasn't that just the most interesting story? Yeah, I thought so.
Member of the Wedding

The Boyf™ I keep making reference to is actually The Official Ex-Boyfriend of the 2003 Blogging Season™ I made reference to for a time. We have been working it out for about 2-3 months now. It's fucking great and amazing and that's all I'm going to say about that. Except that I love him more than applesauce.

Although, I do fear my future will be one in which Cheeks and I deny the truth about our OBVIOUS compatibility, brush it off as coincidence, and move on to love and marry other people. I'm not sure I can live with such a mistake. But, I suppose I must. I can't talk about this anymore.

As you all probably already know, HD and I are pretty big buddies. Everyone knows we most likely share a brain. But, we decided earlier that if we were to somehow physically meld ourselves into one person, meld ourselves into one mind, we'd be fucking unstoppable. We came to this conclusion when we figured out that I can drive golf balls like a fucking champ, and he can stunt with his irons like the fucking golf equivalent of Bruce Lee, and we both can putt like nobody's business. Un-fucking-stoppable. Hot Grease Accident lives for-fucking-ever and rules your mama.

So, I had to get out of my Grandma's house tonight and do something for myself, so I went into Tulsa to see Lucinda Williams. And wouldn't you know it, the lady at the ticket counter let me in free because someone had left a ticket with her that they could not use. That totally ROCKED CHOPSTICKS (thanks to Cheeks for the Phrase of the Month). So I got in free and while watching her rock my lame, semi-buzzed up ass, I decided that if I were my perfect person I would be:

1/4 Lucinda Williams
1/4 Elvis (preferably Presley, but I'd take Costello if that's how the stars lined up)
1/4 Mark Twain
1/4 Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I'd be smart, witty, kick 98 types of major ass, and rock the argyle socks off the entire fucking world. I swear. I'd drive a fucking Lincoln Continental, drink bourbon and never get drunk, and carry Vegas in a briefcase.

You'd all want to marry me, then, wouldn't you?


Good morning, America!

Geez, I was whiny last night. I mean, I'm still mad this morning, but a lot less whiny. Sorry to put you through that.

Anyway, can I tell you that I just made the most ass-kicking drop biscuits in the world? Then I slathered them in butter and jelly and ate 'em with a hot cup of strong coffee. I am ready to start my day!!!!

Plus, I'm going to hit some yard sales and today I should be getting some mail from The Boyf™. Exciting! I hear, though, there are pictures in there of me. You know, just a "series" of "art" "photos" I did for The Boyf™. I'm sort of afraid to see them, but sort of excited. How dirty could they be? The bra didn't even come off.

Have a great day, all!!!!


Why didn't anyone tell me?

Oh, because I was nowhere to be found. But HOLY CRAP, IA IS BACK!!!

The highest point in my week so far.

Thanks, IA.

What's with people?

I can't believe that Bozzie is the only one who's e-mailed me with their information for the T-Shirt Trade. Don't you guys like gifts? Maybe I'll just hit the jackpot and collect the gifts for myself. And then won't you be jealous? E-MAIL ME, fools. Get yo' gift on.

Anyhow, I've got bad news on the cancer front. My Grandma may be getting worse. She broke her femur last December, making her leg and hip bones susceptible to infection, and now, possibly, the breast cancer. So besides the fact that she's severely overweight because of her diabetes, and she has breast cancer, she's now possibly got cancer in her bones and is having an even more difficult and painful time even getting out of or into her bed. She is in a wheelchair all the time. She is not doing well, and I fear I've taken on too much by being her caretaker. This sounds so selfish, but today is my uncle's 30th birthday. I had planned to hang out with him a few hours tonight, but can't go because she said she didn't want to be alone. She let out an extra-loud wail to prove to me that she can't make it alone and that she was afraid I was going to leave her.

Now, it sounds terrible of me to say all this - and as I'm typing she just asked me from the other room "You wouldn't sneak out and leave me, would you?" - but after my mother left this morning to drive home, Grandma changed from the agreeable person she had been, to this demanding, screaming person, getting out of bed to CLEAN because she "just can't live like this". There were 2 pots on the stove. That was it. Everything else was clean.

I understand she has conflicting feelings about what she's going through. We all do. We don't know what's going to happen to her, if she's going to live or die. We just don't know. I want so hard to carry on and act normal, which is part of the reason I want to go out, and not enable this helpless victim environment. That may be denial. Am I not ready to face this reality? That a woman who has been a beacon in my life could soon not be around anymore.

What's funny - not funny haha, but funny ironic - is that her entire life she has been a very devout Christian. She does her bible study every day, prays consistently, and up until she was unable, was at church 2-3 times a week. I remember her telling me my entire life that she was not afraid of dying, because she would be with Jesus, etc. But I can see the fear in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She knows. And she doesn't want to be alone, at all, ever. She has asked me about 4 times today if I am going to sleep in her room to make sure she can get up at night if she has to go to the bathroom. Even though she has been getting up on her own to do it, and I've seen her. I have been sleeping in the living room, a mere 25 feet from her bed, with no doors or obstacles to get through.

I love my uncle, too, and today is an important day for him and I feel like she may be asking me for too much when she knows I have been with her 24/7 for the last week, and will have to be in the days to come. Am I being selfish? Am I a terrible person, an awful granddaughter? I feel like I want to kick and scream, and I can't. Because she's scared enough already.

Johnny Cash RIP 1932 - 2003 

Gone to be with June, 1932 - 2003


You too, John Ritter. RIP 1948 - 2003


The dilly-o

Okay, here we go:


The T-shirt Trade (tentatively titled) will begin with YOU, dear reader/blogger, E-MAILING me with your information. This will include, but is not limited to,


This may also be a good time to send me your suggestions for a new name for this t-shirt trade.

You have until September 20th - that's 10 days from today - to E-MAIL me with your entry.

*I will not sell your information to any third party, however, I may use it to start stalking you. Enter at your own risk.

Now, what I will do from there is randomly select a Secret Pal for you. This means, I will e-mail you with your Secret Pal's mailing info and t-shirt size by September 30 and then it is up to you to

[1.] find a t-shirt that reflects where you live in the world. Say, for instance, I was sending someone something from Atlanta, I would probably send them a Yacht Club t-shirt, because it says "Atlanta, GA" on it and also because I spent the majority of my evenings there and more than a few afternoons, and I have mentioned it several times in my blog;
[B.] send your gift so that it reaches the Secret Pal some time during the month of December, or as I like to call it, December.
[3.] keep your Secret Pal a secret. If they found out, they'd no longer be secret, and then they'd just be your Pal.

Also, there will be no reciprocal Pals. To make it all the more exciting for you.

When you finally receive your t-shirt, you can announce to the world in your daily posts who sent you what and give shout outs, praise, a virtual bitch-slapping, or whatever.

Have I covered everything? E-MAIL ME if I haven't or if you have any questions.

Alright. Go, man, go.



Folks, it's coming upon that time of year again. Yes, the dreaded holidays. I do realize it's September, but according to my mom's blue-haired neighbor, it's never to early to start Christmas. According to her, it's also never too early to start "hating and cursing the Jews for killing Jesus", but that's another story altogether. But, I digress. In this evening's chat with the brilliant Boz of Bozley fame, we decided that we would FINALLY do the t-shirt exchange and guess who's in charge? That's right. Good ol' reliable me. But this time I'll be around and have the time to put it all together. So get ready, kids. Let's put the fun and excitement back into the high holi-days. Get ready for the 1st official:


Details soon.


Can I Be a Cowgirl Now?

I'm back to being a Texan. And according to The Boyf™, I've already been a "reverse cowgirl," whatever that means.

Johnny Lee

I spent a lifetime lookin for you
single bars and good time lovers were never true
playing a fools game, hopin to win
tellin those sweet lies and losin' again

I was lookin for love in all the wrong places lookin for love in too many places
searchin her eyes lookin for traces
of what I'm dreamin of
Hoping to find a friend and a lover
I'll bless the day I discover, you
lookin for love

I was alone then, no love in site
I did every thing I could to get me through the night
Don''t know where it started or where it might end
I'd turn to a stranger just like a friend

And you came on knocking on my front door
You’re ev’rything I’ve been looking for

(I was...)
... in all the wrong places
looking for love in too many faces
searching your eyes looking for traces
of the one I’m dreaming of
Hoping to find a friend and a lover
I bless the day I mdiscovered you
Another heart
looking for love


My name is monogrammed on my underwear

If your name is ChezPink and you don't know about THESE yet, I am sorely disappointed.

Every girl needs these ...spread...

the word.


You're With Stupid

If you don't have Kathleen Edwards first effort Failer, then you, my [ex] online friend, are laaaaaaaame.

Whether you own it or not, you still deserve an update on your MIATLSuperstar. And, for all practical purposes, I AM STILL the onceandfuture A.T.L. and not this O.K.L.A character, as Bozzie would have you believe.

When last I left you I was a Type 7, and believe I still am. I did make it out of the A-T-L alive, with some of my dignity intact, the smog-haze-skyline and all its broken promise in my rearview mirror, its objects, strangely enough, much smaller than they appeared. I don't miss it and I won't go back.

My route to Austin has been diverted, briefly, while I take on more than I can possibly handle by laying over in Oklahoma to take care of The Grandma™, who is back in the hospital and upon her return home will need a [responsible] adult to help her with her meds, maintenance, and overall meddling. In short, her diabetic state is keeping her from fully healing from her mastectomy, thus keeping her from chemotherapy and fully healing from her breast cancer. I think it best I be here for her 100%, all the time, until she is out of woods. Wish her well, please.

I missed you all. I hope you missed me, too.


I had a dream last night that I was dating Geoffrey Rush. And now I'm all hot and bothered over freakin' Geoffrey Rush. Wow. Simply wow. My obsession with brilliant, odd-looking, much older men has hit a new high.

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