Tag Archives: crack

Accidental Art installation By Gram

Today Sucked.

However when I came home from picking up my child I opened the door to the smell of burning plastic.

Which, really, can only mean two things: 1. Grams gotten into the Crack again, or 2. Gram forgot about the bread in the oven and turned it on, again.

 

To my surprise is wasn’t Crack (OK, kidding. My Gram wouldn’t even know what that was).

Fresh Baked Bread, anyone?

LMAO

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Goodnight friends

OXOXO

Catriona

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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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