Michelle had a crazy, wild, party tonight. I left early. I wasn't feeling it. It's hard to really have a great time when you're in a lot of pain. I did make a cameo and I was pleasant to everyone. I actually did the Southern Girl rendetion of "My Humps" and of course we all had fun with my lumps :)
Michelle, the crazy drunk slut that she is known to be, slapped my ass--My ass is broke!!! She totally forgot and felt horrible about it. Uhm....I had to hold back the tears!!! Talk about pain. Sheesh.
Michelle, thanks for the party, the Diet Mt Dew and the Kareoke. Thanks for doing your charity.
Goodnight!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
While I'm At It
I'm not supposed to be doing this...but Emma has a huge fan base so I thought I'd share just one....This was @ my Grandma's farm. She's a doll!!!
^^^^^^Check out those heels! She's Mini in training ^^^^
{For those of you who didn't know, I got my nickname Mini/Minnie by walking around the pool in heels that were too big for me, ala Minnie Mouse}
^^^^^^Check out those heels! She's Mini in training ^^^^
{For those of you who didn't know, I got my nickname Mini/Minnie by walking around the pool in heels that were too big for me, ala Minnie Mouse}
My Godson's Debut
My girlfriend in L.A., Gigi delivered an 8 lb. 12oz. baby boy :)
Little Maverick. We're going to be calling him 'Mav'.
Little Maverick. We're going to be calling him 'Mav'.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
An exciting week!
Monday: Fell down the stairs
Tuesday: Doctor's office for falling down the stairs
Weds: Dr & Hospital from falling down the stairs
Thur: Dr from falling down the stairs
Fri: Knocked out from all the meds from falling down the stairs.
Yeah....don't do that!!!
Tuesday: Doctor's office for falling down the stairs
Weds: Dr & Hospital from falling down the stairs
Thur: Dr from falling down the stairs
Fri: Knocked out from all the meds from falling down the stairs.
Amaya's Law:
Never run down super clean oak staircases without shoes or your hands may end up smelling like pledge!!! Or you may have a bruise on your ass that completely covers your left cheek nearly. Or a ruptured tit, or bruised hip or rib.Yeah....don't do that!!!
Hi Officer!
So yesterday after waking up to a voicemail that was left Tuesday afternoon, I was en route to my doctor's office. Before finally leaving the house, I managed to finally find myself in traffic on 340 N. Great. Slow traffic is fun.
Once I made it to 81 it was smooth sailing and I got to my exit in about 15 minutes. Not bad, but since I was doing over 80 mph that's not surprising. Route 340 is always annoyingly backed up, so many of us who need to get to the intersection for the Route 33 usually end up driving a few hundred feet up the shoulder of the road to get to the turnoff, rather than waiting the 4 or 5 light cycles it would normally take us.
Well today my friends, the VA State Troopers outsmarted us. ALL of us. I had the privilege of being one of about 15 people who got stopped on the ol' shoulder detour, and have the $110 ticket to prove it. Imagine my surprise when I pulled out of traffic, drove about 10 feet and a cop steps out of nowhere and just points to the back of the car in front of me; who also happened to have been pulled over.
Now, last time I got pulled over by the Troopers, which was August of last year, I managed to get out of a ticket even though I was going 84 in a 55. "Ms. Warner, this is just a warning... no ticket, ok? Just a warning. But do be careful out there on the roads and watch your speed! You have a great one. Thanks!".... and of course swooning troopers pass out from the ultimate hotness that is me!!!
Right.
Or maybe it was from the heat radiating out from underneath the Acura hood, it's hard to say. But not the case this time.
Oh no, there was no conversation, no questions, no small talk. I wanted to say, "you know, usually before this happens I at least get some dinner out of it. [And by 'this' I mean 'I allow you to drool over me while you take me to a nice restaurant.']" Probably better I didn't though. Come to think of it, I'm glad I didn't ask if his gun was of the "water" variety, either. They didn't seem to be the type of guys with a lot of personality or appreciation for great humor or banter. But seriously, they look like plastic!!! (who carries Glocks anymore, honestly?)
It was all business. They didn't notice my ultra-cute glasses. They didn't mention my new shirt with a bird on it, that is almost as cute as my glasses. Not one of them complimented my style and overall presence. They just pointed to the spot where they wanted me to stop, and I did. I waited in line for over 30 minutes, and they took their time. I was asked [told] to sign the ticket and I did because I knew what they really wanted was my autograph and I like making peoples' days. And then finally, I was released back into the wild that is Route 33 on a typical, overcommuted Wednsday morning.
Really, I think all State Troopers need to have their eyes re-examined. Either that or they need to read up on the current A-Listers. I'm sure this all of this could have been easily smoothed over with one call from my agent! Sheesh!
Once I merged onto 33, it felt good to let the sportscar of my dreams really open up... I figure the best thing to do after getting a ridiculous ticket from a group of State Troopers who had set up a "lawbreaker trap" was to drive in excessive speeds not even a mile from where they were. Too bad the giant black crow that was having a difficult time holding whatever it was it had caught for breakfast flew right into my windshield.
Seriously, and my car was just washed, too.
Last time I hit a bird (interestingly also a black crow), it was decrapitated on my windshield. And no, that isnt' a misspelling. Not only did the bird's head come off, but it crapped everywhere. Which you and I would probably do the same if our heads were cut off; whether or not it was from the windshield of a moving car.
Well, that's all I got for now. Maybe I'll go to court for the ticket and ask for PBJ (that's "Probation Before Judgement," not "peanut butter and jelly," you dummies)... I'm sure they'll have me do something inane like 8 hours of volunteer work at a local firehouse, where the head-perv will make inappropriate commentary and stalk me at work. Because that's what happened last time. Incidentally, I was 17 and had yet to discover my girl fistfighting capabilities. But that's a whole other story.
So let's keep it going for the State Troopers... by doing their jobs, they ruined my day! That's ok though, because the crow I sent them in the mail will probably arrive sometime tomorrow.
Once I made it to 81 it was smooth sailing and I got to my exit in about 15 minutes. Not bad, but since I was doing over 80 mph that's not surprising. Route 340 is always annoyingly backed up, so many of us who need to get to the intersection for the Route 33 usually end up driving a few hundred feet up the shoulder of the road to get to the turnoff, rather than waiting the 4 or 5 light cycles it would normally take us.
Well today my friends, the VA State Troopers outsmarted us. ALL of us. I had the privilege of being one of about 15 people who got stopped on the ol' shoulder detour, and have the $110 ticket to prove it. Imagine my surprise when I pulled out of traffic, drove about 10 feet and a cop steps out of nowhere and just points to the back of the car in front of me; who also happened to have been pulled over.
Now, last time I got pulled over by the Troopers, which was August of last year, I managed to get out of a ticket even though I was going 84 in a 55. "Ms. Warner, this is just a warning... no ticket, ok? Just a warning. But do be careful out there on the roads and watch your speed! You have a great one. Thanks!".... and of course swooning troopers pass out from the ultimate hotness that is me!!!
Right.
Or maybe it was from the heat radiating out from underneath the Acura hood, it's hard to say. But not the case this time.
Oh no, there was no conversation, no questions, no small talk. I wanted to say, "you know, usually before this happens I at least get some dinner out of it. [And by 'this' I mean 'I allow you to drool over me while you take me to a nice restaurant.']" Probably better I didn't though. Come to think of it, I'm glad I didn't ask if his gun was of the "water" variety, either. They didn't seem to be the type of guys with a lot of personality or appreciation for great humor or banter. But seriously, they look like plastic!!! (who carries Glocks anymore, honestly?)
It was all business. They didn't notice my ultra-cute glasses. They didn't mention my new shirt with a bird on it, that is almost as cute as my glasses. Not one of them complimented my style and overall presence. They just pointed to the spot where they wanted me to stop, and I did. I waited in line for over 30 minutes, and they took their time. I was asked [told] to sign the ticket and I did because I knew what they really wanted was my autograph and I like making peoples' days. And then finally, I was released back into the wild that is Route 33 on a typical, overcommuted Wednsday morning.
Really, I think all State Troopers need to have their eyes re-examined. Either that or they need to read up on the current A-Listers. I'm sure this all of this could have been easily smoothed over with one call from my agent! Sheesh!
Once I merged onto 33, it felt good to let the sportscar of my dreams really open up... I figure the best thing to do after getting a ridiculous ticket from a group of State Troopers who had set up a "lawbreaker trap" was to drive in excessive speeds not even a mile from where they were. Too bad the giant black crow that was having a difficult time holding whatever it was it had caught for breakfast flew right into my windshield.
Seriously, and my car was just washed, too.
Last time I hit a bird (interestingly also a black crow), it was decrapitated on my windshield. And no, that isnt' a misspelling. Not only did the bird's head come off, but it crapped everywhere. Which you and I would probably do the same if our heads were cut off; whether or not it was from the windshield of a moving car.
Well, that's all I got for now. Maybe I'll go to court for the ticket and ask for PBJ (that's "Probation Before Judgement," not "peanut butter and jelly," you dummies)... I'm sure they'll have me do something inane like 8 hours of volunteer work at a local firehouse, where the head-perv will make inappropriate commentary and stalk me at work. Because that's what happened last time. Incidentally, I was 17 and had yet to discover my girl fistfighting capabilities. But that's a whole other story.
So let's keep it going for the State Troopers... by doing their jobs, they ruined my day! That's ok though, because the crow I sent them in the mail will probably arrive sometime tomorrow.
Friday, June 22, 2007
FYI
Victoria's Secret is having there Semi-annual sale, guys!!!
Go Nuts.
Going to see the dr.
Miss me.
Go Nuts.
Going to see the dr.
Miss me.
Friday, June 15, 2007
I pity da foo!
Who doesn't miss me!!!
Just waiting on Scary Spice to arrive and then we're outta here for the weekend :)
See ya on Sunday.
Still need a moochie.
AGW
Just waiting on Scary Spice to arrive and then we're outta here for the weekend :)
See ya on Sunday.
Still need a moochie.
AGW
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Father's Day Weekend
You can find me in NC @ the Beach House with my family for a little R&R.
I wish I had a moochie......
I wish I had a moochie......
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Update....
Dad is doing well.
I am too.
I'm meeting up with Michelle to get some cardio in.
This workout stuff has been hard, now it's starting to become an addiction.
You all know me and addictions, I have to feed them :)
I am too.
I'm meeting up with Michelle to get some cardio in.
This workout stuff has been hard, now it's starting to become an addiction.
You all know me and addictions, I have to feed them :)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Ladies & Gentleman of the Class of 2k7
Wear Sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it because the long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists. Or you can just not wear sunscreen. I really don't care either way to be honest. I actually recommend slathering yourself in tanning oil. It makes for a killer tan and gives your stems a nice sheen.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth, if you have any of either. In 20 years you may or may not look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked… But thankfully there's numerous and affordable plastic surgery options available today so you can recapture that if you really wanted to (caveat is that to recapture it, you actually had to possess it at one time). And even if you find yourself thinking that you were not as fat back then as you imagined... you probably really were, so quit lying to yourself and get to know Atkins.
Don't worry about the future: we're all screwed and going the way of the Dodo, so unless you have a way to fix it, I don't want to hear whatever it is you're worrying about. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday: like finding out at the gas station that you now have to pay $3.19/gallon of Regular.
Do one thing everyday that scares you. Bonus points if it terrifies the hell out of the people around you.
Sing. Even if you can't, or it's through a synthesizer… then you can get a record deal like T-Pain and insult the very definition of "singing" and/or "music."
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, and don't put up with people who are reckless with your own. Unless you have an untraceable .45 and a silencer. In which case, you can do whatever the hell you want. Go ahead, ask me how I know that.
Floss [ice and/or in the club].
Time is not to be wasted on jealousy. Being jealous just means that whether you think you're ahead or whether you think you're behind, you still know that you suck at life in some way and should strive to be the least like yourself as possible. {Note to self}
Remember the compliments you receive, but write down the insults. They'll come in handy when dealing with some Frat fags at a bar in the future.
Throw away your old love letters, but keep copies of your ex's bank statements and credit card information. As you'll inevitably find out, love is not as tangible as money and few things feel as good as revenge in the form of Identity Theft.
Stretch. Thhhhhhhhhheeeeee trruuuuuth. Because a lot of times you won't get caught.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life… the most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't. Incidentally, they also happen to be working 70 hours a week for less than minimum wage in a dilapidated factory and addicted to meth.
Get plenty of calcium. Because people with bad teeth are gross.
Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone. And chances are, so will most of the men in your life.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary, for which you will be made fun of because honestly, who plays "the funky chicken" at weddings? But what ever you do, don't be a prick by congratulating yourself too much, and don't be a drama queen by berating yourself either – your choices are half chance and so are everybody else's. And chances are, you made some fucked up choices which is why you sit in a dark room every night, listening to Richard Marx albums on repeat and drinking Natty Bo through the taste of your own tears and then using them as lube.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can… don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own. Just ask the ZTAs at Towson, they would know better than anyone and will even demonstrate.
Dance… even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. Or on a pole in a moist, seedy strip club on the wrong side of town.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them. But don't tell the doctors in the ER that you didn't follow the directions because doing that would ruin your chances of a financially successful lawsuit.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they are only for beautiful people... which you probably are not.
Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good. Then you'll be out of the will and shit out of luck because life is tough like that.
Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. This is important because you can dump your kids off on them when you don't feel like putting up with your own hellspawn. They probably also have lots of blackmail material on you, and it's best to keep tabs on people like that.
Respect your elders. Stop threatening to boil them in the kiddie pool in the yard at your brother's house.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund (in which case call me), maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out. But in the case of the latter, get a pit bull of a divorce attorney and take that bastard for everything he's worth.
Do lots of crazy shit with your hair, because if you're like my dad, by the time you're 60 it will start to disappear and you'll wish you had some to ruin, just on principal.
Don't buy advice. Unless it's mine. Which is $10/minute. Just FYI, the people who tell you that advice is "a form of nostalgia," and that dispensing it is a way of "fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth," are basically trying to hand you a polished turd. And that's fucked up. Really, you should punch them in the face for that because who would want to be handed a turd: polished or not?
But trust me on the tanning oil… I have tan, glossy stems!!!
{A certain exotic future model-to-be graduated from the Eighth grade last night. She's my inspiration}
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it because the long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists. Or you can just not wear sunscreen. I really don't care either way to be honest. I actually recommend slathering yourself in tanning oil. It makes for a killer tan and gives your stems a nice sheen.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth, if you have any of either. In 20 years you may or may not look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked… But thankfully there's numerous and affordable plastic surgery options available today so you can recapture that if you really wanted to (caveat is that to recapture it, you actually had to possess it at one time). And even if you find yourself thinking that you were not as fat back then as you imagined... you probably really were, so quit lying to yourself and get to know Atkins.
Don't worry about the future: we're all screwed and going the way of the Dodo, so unless you have a way to fix it, I don't want to hear whatever it is you're worrying about. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday: like finding out at the gas station that you now have to pay $3.19/gallon of Regular.
Do one thing everyday that scares you. Bonus points if it terrifies the hell out of the people around you.
Sing. Even if you can't, or it's through a synthesizer… then you can get a record deal like T-Pain and insult the very definition of "singing" and/or "music."
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, and don't put up with people who are reckless with your own. Unless you have an untraceable .45 and a silencer. In which case, you can do whatever the hell you want. Go ahead, ask me how I know that.
Floss [ice and/or in the club].
Time is not to be wasted on jealousy. Being jealous just means that whether you think you're ahead or whether you think you're behind, you still know that you suck at life in some way and should strive to be the least like yourself as possible. {Note to self}
Remember the compliments you receive, but write down the insults. They'll come in handy when dealing with some Frat fags at a bar in the future.
Throw away your old love letters, but keep copies of your ex's bank statements and credit card information. As you'll inevitably find out, love is not as tangible as money and few things feel as good as revenge in the form of Identity Theft.
Stretch. Thhhhhhhhhheeeeee trruuuuuth. Because a lot of times you won't get caught.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life… the most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't. Incidentally, they also happen to be working 70 hours a week for less than minimum wage in a dilapidated factory and addicted to meth.
Get plenty of calcium. Because people with bad teeth are gross.
Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone. And chances are, so will most of the men in your life.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary, for which you will be made fun of because honestly, who plays "the funky chicken" at weddings? But what ever you do, don't be a prick by congratulating yourself too much, and don't be a drama queen by berating yourself either – your choices are half chance and so are everybody else's. And chances are, you made some fucked up choices which is why you sit in a dark room every night, listening to Richard Marx albums on repeat and drinking Natty Bo through the taste of your own tears and then using them as lube.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can… don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own. Just ask the ZTAs at Towson, they would know better than anyone and will even demonstrate.
Dance… even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. Or on a pole in a moist, seedy strip club on the wrong side of town.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them. But don't tell the doctors in the ER that you didn't follow the directions because doing that would ruin your chances of a financially successful lawsuit.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they are only for beautiful people... which you probably are not.
Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good. Then you'll be out of the will and shit out of luck because life is tough like that.
Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. This is important because you can dump your kids off on them when you don't feel like putting up with your own hellspawn. They probably also have lots of blackmail material on you, and it's best to keep tabs on people like that.
Respect your elders. Stop threatening to boil them in the kiddie pool in the yard at your brother's house.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund (in which case call me), maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out. But in the case of the latter, get a pit bull of a divorce attorney and take that bastard for everything he's worth.
Do lots of crazy shit with your hair, because if you're like my dad, by the time you're 60 it will start to disappear and you'll wish you had some to ruin, just on principal.
Don't buy advice. Unless it's mine. Which is $10/minute. Just FYI, the people who tell you that advice is "a form of nostalgia," and that dispensing it is a way of "fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth," are basically trying to hand you a polished turd. And that's fucked up. Really, you should punch them in the face for that because who would want to be handed a turd: polished or not?
But trust me on the tanning oil… I have tan, glossy stems!!!
{A certain exotic future model-to-be graduated from the Eighth grade last night. She's my inspiration}
Monday, June 11, 2007
And so
I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Perhaps, I never went to bed on the right side. It's not been an easy morning for me. Kennedy nor Ava isn't here yet and I've already thrown up. This seems to be the norm theses days. And IT'S NOT MORNING SICKNESS.
I am so decisive sometimes, only thinking the worst. Why haven't I changed my way of thinking? Over the past couple of weeks I feel as though I've changed a lot. At the request of some vip's, I've been more active socially, I've cut down the religious talks because I didn't want to be a jesus freak, and I've become a lot more stable emotionally. But I miss me. I'm not a social butterfly anymore. Mostly because of my addictive past. Everyone knows how much I hated coke, but loved the smell of it! I'm so far away from that scene anymore. I don't even want to be around it. Going out puts me around it. Sue me because I'd rather have a mojito by own pool while reading The Robb Report. And if I tell you to say your prayers and ask God for forgiveness it's because I like you. I never said it to be freaky. I'm sorry for you but God is my passion. And lastly, I've gained weight over the past few months due to the antidepressants that I was, (PASTTENSE) on. I've been working hard to shed the lbs. 250-300 sit ups a day, 45 mins of cardio and I've been eating like a rabbit. I'm not happy with the weight gain cuz it's not me...but I'm happier and who I have become. Not to mention the fact that I love the fact that I'm so freaking soft!!!! Haha. On a serious note, if you don't like it....Get steppin'!
I'm second guessing my motions. I hope I did the right thing.
A
I am so decisive sometimes, only thinking the worst. Why haven't I changed my way of thinking? Over the past couple of weeks I feel as though I've changed a lot. At the request of some vip's, I've been more active socially, I've cut down the religious talks because I didn't want to be a jesus freak, and I've become a lot more stable emotionally. But I miss me. I'm not a social butterfly anymore. Mostly because of my addictive past. Everyone knows how much I hated coke, but loved the smell of it! I'm so far away from that scene anymore. I don't even want to be around it. Going out puts me around it. Sue me because I'd rather have a mojito by own pool while reading The Robb Report. And if I tell you to say your prayers and ask God for forgiveness it's because I like you. I never said it to be freaky. I'm sorry for you but God is my passion. And lastly, I've gained weight over the past few months due to the antidepressants that I was, (PASTTENSE) on. I've been working hard to shed the lbs. 250-300 sit ups a day, 45 mins of cardio and I've been eating like a rabbit. I'm not happy with the weight gain cuz it's not me...but I'm happier and who I have become. Not to mention the fact that I love the fact that I'm so freaking soft!!!! Haha. On a serious note, if you don't like it....Get steppin'!
I'm second guessing my motions. I hope I did the right thing.
A
Thursday, June 07, 2007
AhhWhatTheShit!!!
It's been a real shitty week here in Dickwater. I'm still recovering from Mexico all while I'm surfing the crimson wave. No fun. The good news is "I'm only one stomach flu away from my goal weight!!"
Daddy's having surgery on Wed. So not looking forward to it. According to his doctor, all will be well but every surgery is risky.
I don't do risks.
I'm going to work my ass off on the treadmill.
Much love,
Amaya
Daddy's having surgery on Wed. So not looking forward to it. According to his doctor, all will be well but every surgery is risky.
I don't do risks.
I'm going to work my ass off on the treadmill.
Much love,
Amaya
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
I don't know about you
But I find bloodshot eyeballs to be very sexy. I mean if you threw up your body weight in vomit over the past week, you'd be sexy too and you'd have the bloody eyeballs too!
Bloodshot eyeballs aren't as sexy as swimming in baby feces or eating Ecoli, but it's damn close.
Still feeling yucky.
Bloodshot eyeballs aren't as sexy as swimming in baby feces or eating Ecoli, but it's damn close.
Still feeling yucky.
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