STOP HUMPING MY FRIGGEN LEG.

So, while in the Post Office, standing in line with about 15 people in front on me, I feel and hear a whisper in my ear “you need to move forward”.  Now this guy was so close to me, he was just about touching my neck. I moved forward, said something about him not having to be so close to me, and continued filling out my label. Not even 30 second later he was right up against me again. Soooo, again, I moved a bit forward trying not to crowd the woman in front of me. Annnnnd again he moved so close to me  that he could have been humping my leg if he twitched even in the slightest way. So, I am sure we all know what I did next.  I causes a ruckus. I’m damn good at causing a scene.

I yelled something about him “humping my Fucking leg” and “I’ve moved three times because of it, you do NOT need to be that close to me!”

Small USPS store means the whole office, patrons, and all the tellers heard.  The guy put both of his hands on the counter as if he was used to being made to account for his hands, and said not a word more.

I went to the next teller, and as always asked how his grandbabies were while everyone stared are the freak behind me. Snarl.

UGH.

 

Anyway. I have a photo dump for you all. These are from the last few days.

One of the loves in my life.

Walking around the last few days to clear my head.

Also, while in the store I found some Spotted Dick – I’m VERY familiar with that. But, what the hell is Treacle (in a can)? And, is it just me, or does it look wayyyyy worse next to the Spotted Dick?

On my way home yesterday this was on the sidewalk of a construction site:

Hope you are all well.

XOXOXO

Catriona

I heart me some clowns. HARD.

Don’t judge me. Jerks.

I’ve always loved clowns. And masks for that matter; but that’s a whole separate subject (obsession?). When I was a child my room was filled with clowns of all types. From creepy to adorable, I had a room full of terror for those with a phobia – which I never understood (tho I really don’t understand phobias like should anyway, I suspect. I have none and don’t get it). I remember some of my friends screamed and ran from my room upon first visit. So worth it. hah. Ahhhhhhh Childhood.

Annnny way, if you follow my twitter of facebook you’d know I’m so completely enthralled by the UK clown. The Northampton clown has so many people’s nickers in a bunch that I almost can’t take it. Flippin’ hilarious. Oh and NOW there’s a “Clown catcher” dressed as a super hero. He goes out at night in hopes of catching the clown. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! Some times the universe comes thru for me entertainment wise; I could just hug it for this tremendous gift. ahahahahaha.

Twitter is blowing up with reactions – both good and bad. I’ve been so busy watching the action I haven’t done a damn thing that could be considered productive. Look it up on twitter, I dare you: #Northhamptonclown. You will be amused. Or scared to death. One of those.

Sorry for the poorly written post -I’ve gotta get back to the clown watch. stat.

Catriona

HEY, Can’t you see I’m drooling here?!

Yeah, Hi. Good Morning.

I despise morning. Who ever invented mornings should be taken out back and shot. In the knee caps. Then, tied to an angry cow. Yeah, I said it. You know you were thinking it. Anrgry.Mother.Fuckin’.Cow.

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you sit in the other room listening to what you strongly HOPE is the coffee dripping into the cup, and not the floor, and wonder…..am I going to have to lick my coffee from the floor, agian… damn…… At home, I don’t have this issue because I use a coffee press not a mofoin’ one cup Keurig thingie. Evil Keurig. FUCK YOU KEURIG.

I’m getting old. I think I will pick up knitting. I think my first attempt at knitting will be a Penis Sock. Xmas is just around the corner and since a lot of people I love happen to own a penis – I need  to get going. The problem here is how does one go about deciding the size of the sock needed?……yeah, think about that one for a min.

Alright, I am off….heh….

 

Catriona

 

 

 

Dump W-day

Yeah I’m dumpin’ don’t judge me.

I have some ridiculous crap that I am gonna dump allllll over you. …

Hold on to your panties, this is going to get interesting. .

I FRIGGEN LOVE THIS. HAHAHHAHA!! I love the MOFO’in BunnyRaptor!!!!  I LOVE THE BUNNYRAPTOR!

This just makes me laugh…

Ummmmmm……..hmmmmmmm…….I’m sorta upset I don’t get these kinda spiders in my house. ..

WILL SOMEONE TELL ME, PLEASE, WHAT IN THE BLUE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!

HAHAHAHHAHAHHA!!!!!

I will leave you with that.

Catriona

Ask Catriona

So, I keep disappearing. (It will happen from time to time. I have tons of projects I pull the strings for…)

And when I disappear, I get mail. A lot of mail.

Some hate mail, some love mail, but mail none the less (for the record, I really, really LOVE the hate mail). I get questions and comments,  and just plan raw ridiculousness that makes me squish with excitement.

I’ve decided! I’ve decided that I’m going to start posting the messages, and tweets and weird stuff that I get from all the various media outlets that I lend myself to, here. Well not all, that’s crazy talk. Some. The some that I like, or the some that I think should be out in the land of entertainment, the land of real. Unless you give me direct permission to use your first name, user name, or sex handle (whatever you are into, weirdo) I will post them anonymously.

I get so many questions. SO.MANY.QUESTIONS. I love questions, I do. But, it would be so much easier for my lazy ass if they were, for the most part, in the same place. So, I will be answering questions on posts like this one. They will be filed under “Ask Catriona” and you will be free to read all the stuff people say to me when they think no one is looking. LMAO You are all free to ask any question you feel the need to ask, here, as well. I reserve the right to tell you to go to hell and delete your post (very rarely will I do this, but I draw the line at child abuse and old people beating questions, or statements). I almost always answer every question. Just sometimes never in any type of speedy manner.

Oh, also. For the most part – you will get more than one answer to choose from. I believe in freedom, and you have the freedom to believe what you want to be believe. And I have the freedom to keep you guessing, mofo.

Let’s start with the last round of questions and comments I have received. No names will be used, as no one had a chance to give permission.

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Q: Catriona, what do you smell like?

ANSWER(s):

A. I smell like I imagine a fresh vagina would, while dancing in the rain.

B. I smell like a tonic made from fruit flies.

C. Walnuts.

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Q: Is Catriona your real name?

ANSWER(s):

Yes, one of my many. Bologna being my first.

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Q: Can I have your phone number?

ANSWER(s):

A. No, but the reason isn’t you, it’s me. I’m the biggest stalker EVER. Sometimes (read: MOST times) I cannot help myself and I get a little out of hand. The collection of protection orders against me is starting to pile up, and my lawyer says that I need to stop, like, now.  He also wont let me publish a compilation of the protection orders all the lovers of the world have lovingly bestowed upon me. He’s an asshole.

B. Fuck that shit, yo.

C. I would, but you need to talk to my pimp first.

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Q: Can I have you E-mail address?

ANSWER(s):

A. Of course you can! Duh, it’s Ilovethecrack@braahahahaha.com

B. NO, weirdo!

C. I might be reachable at Catrionaiscrazy@gmail.com.

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That’s not even the tip of the weirdoburg. I love the weirdoburg.

Alright, that is all for now.

Catriona

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