My Boob is Giggling

Dear Future Leslee:

Please excuse how much I am phoning this one in but I have had a busy week and I’m tired and I haven’t posted a post in like five days and the guilt is…well, frankly the guilt is underwhelming. But enough about me: let’s talk about my boob. And politics, a little. And then I’m gonna link-dump, and then I’m going to talk about me some more. Because that’s how I roll.

Firstly, my boob has been vibrating randomly. I wanted to construct a better lead-in to that but really, what the fuck? How do you introduce boob vibrations? You don’t. They introduce their goddamn selves. Boob-giggles are like the Chuck Norris of strange bodily functions. So anyway, my boobs…specifically my left boob…has been vibrating randomly. Now, there is no cellphone in my bra (I’ve checked twice) and it’s not an earthquake. I’m hoping it’s a muscle spasm but, yes, it could be a thousand tiny heart attacks. There’s always hope.

Secondly, POLITICS YO. I am alllll about the voting, and I think you should do it. Vote, I mean. In fact, I am specifically asking the whole damn world (of people I know…in Canada…) to get out and vote as a birthday present to me. That’s right: this year’s election is ON MY BIRTHDAY and I am narcissistic enough to make fucking democracy all about me because it happens to be taking place on the day I (and millions of other people, but who cares about THEM anyway) was born.


Don’t want to vote? Don’t care enough to get informed on the issues? Too damn lazy to wrap your filthy self in a bed sheet or animal carcass and ooze your way down to a voting station? I guess we aren’t friends anymore. I’m serious about this, internet. SERIOUS.

I’ve linked to him before but seriously consider (actually, don’t think…just do) visiting the Gorg at for constant, obsessive, fan-boy election coverage. The man cares more about the state of the nation than I do about the state of my boob and I might be having a stroke ALL THE TIME. I don’t know where I’m going with this but I know where you’re going: to the Gorg. And then out to vote on May 2nd. OR ELSE.

I almost wrote that as OR SEEL and now all I can think about is Pokemon. Thanks for ruining my childhood, anime. Thanks a bunch.

Also, I’m drinking Amaretto out of a Star Trek glass that doesn’t even belong to me and I mixed it with Life brand cranberry-raspberry sparkling soda and it tastes like sadness and disappointment. Yes, those are flavours and I know what they taste like, which is kind of like this morning when Trevs told me that he knew what re-bar tasted like.

I believed him.

Speaking of Trevs, if you haven’t already you should check out Vigil for a Fish at because even though I am incapable of inserting a hyperlink my friends do good work. Good work about fish, mostly, but you’re really asking a lot of me today. Me AND them. Seriously, Trevs almost fell asleep driving me home but in the end we all lived happily ever after. Especially you if you go read that story. Serious.

It occurs to me that I would bone ANY of the Kirks in their prime. Especially the one currently filled with Amaretto. You delicious, Prime-directive-ignoring bastard. I love you. C’mere.

Speaking of men I would bone…I don’t even have a finishing statement for that. I am so damn confused about all men all the time now that I’ve just kind of given up. I quit boys. I’ll come back to it in a few weeks likely but for now I am just kind of confused and disgruntled. Like a pug in booties. Specifically, like this pug in booties: And that crazed woman cackling in the background? That’s the Universe revelling in my suffering. Look especially closely around 0:30, and you’ll notice by the shadows that the unseen lady actually holding the camera is clearly wearing fucking antlers.

I hate my life a little.

Anyway, go vote or I’ll throw away that friendship bracelet you made me at camp in grade five,


Past Leslee.


About leslei

Listen, I like to use the eff word. If that is going to be a problem you should probably just turn this car around RIGHT NOW.
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