TODAY'S FREAKOUT, BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE NUMBER ELEVEN:

Hey, anybody remember last week? When I had seven special report things to write for work? And how much I complained about it?

Am stupid girl. Drama queen. I know NOT of what I speak.

Next week? Eleven reports. E. LEV. EN. 

And I won't actually have a week this time. I really have about four days. What's four divided by eleven? Or I am supposed to divide eleven by four? Or is that the same thing? How in the world have I not been fired yet?

Yes, it's back. I missed it, actually.

TODAY'S THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL, BROUGHT TO YOU BY MIR:

So a little something arrived in the mail yesterday. Something that could really ever only be addressed to me.

Yes. That is a tote bag that says Queen of Everything on it. Look at the marvelous detail.

So thank you to Mir (what's that link? Mir? Mir?), for not only the perfect bag for announcing my superiority to everyone, but for also giving me an idea for this year's Halloween costume.

TODAY'S LAME-ASS PHOTO ESSAY, BROUGHT TO YOU BY MY OWN FILTHY FILTH:

Poor Chris. He certainly took a thrashing in Tuesday's post. I mean, there once was a time when you could go out for lunch with a friend and not have to worry about your nasty, dirty cupholders ending up on the Internet. Those days are past. Especially if that friend is me.

But! Let he who is without filth cast the first stone! The rest of you, get in line behind him! Amalah? Back of the line, toots.

I present to you, my coffee table. (At a special artsy angle, too!)

This is not a cupholder. This is where I LIVE. This is where I put my feet up. And also where I eat dinner a lot of the time, which has only now occurred to me as being really, really gross.

Just what is some of that crap? Well, let's do a quick inventory, starting in the top left corner and going clockwise:

Blank DVDs for pirating movies, topped off with a copy of the Jenna Lewis Survivor sex tape, blank CDs for pirating music, my birthday card that Jason forgot to give me in December and gave me on Tuesday, the case for Carbon Leaf's live CD (empty), a burned-out and busted wireless network card, the case for Carbon Leaf's Echo Echo CD (empty), the box and manual for our new wireless network card, shit from work that I brought home and ignored, keys, a rum and coke, an empty wine glass, an empty wine bottle, TiVo remote, plates from dinner, Jason's cell phone, stamps, another rum and coke, another empty wine glass, a Gladware container of soy nuts, the manual for our new camera (in Spanish).

Also strewn about: sharp scissors, more remotes, Post-Its, random bits of Important Trash, hair clips, sunglasses, matches, my collection of nail polish, catalogs, shoes, mail, and Max's Puppy.

This is Puppy.

Max loves Puppy. Puppy is loved. Puppy gets the living shit kicked out of him on every occasion. Puppy is hanging on by a thread.

AND ONE MORE, BECAUSE I LIKE WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME I'M PRETTY:

This is me, surprisingly not on drugs, just with smeary eyeliner.

"Yes, I know I should be cleaning off the coffee table, Jason, but I'd really prefer to just hang out on the couch, over here, by your pants."