I want to go to bed with Brandi Carlile.

…and other things you never suspected about me…

About the title:  Um, duh.  She’s sexy as fuck.  Funny as fuck.  Her sense of humor is right up my alley.  Which makes me want to go… right. up. her. alley.  If you know what I mean.

*wiggling eyebrows*

And what, you are wondering, brought on this particular brand of overshare, Feve?

Well that’s an easy answer.

Three hours at work.

Two orgasms.

One youtube surfing session.

And zero alcohol.  (Swear!)

So there I was, zoning out at work today, thinking about shagging Brandi Carlile, when I said to myself:

SELF!  You have about 14 awards you never accepted this year!

(Yes, I truly am that amazing.)

And usually all those awardsy thingies have stipulations that come along with them, like “Divulge 17 highly personal facts about yourself that would make a porn star blush” and such.  Which is why I don’t bother with them.

Because if you want to know personal facts…  Well this blog is sorta TMI.  Um, hellllloooooooo people!  SEX, yo.  Plus, I don’t really think there’s much about me that could make anyone blush.

‘Kayso, when I was thinking about what would make Brandi Carlile blush, I said to myself:

SELF!  There’s the whole eating utensil thing!

(Don’t ask.)

And from there, I sort of went on an ADD-a-thon, and I decided there actually *are* about 17 things y’all don’t know about me yet.  (No blushing required.  😉  No lipstick or mascara required either.  Heh.)

However, I’m not gonna share 17 things.

I’m just gonna share…  However many this turns out to be.

Ready?!?

1. Brandi Carlile.  Seriously, I think women are a huge pain in the ass, but she’d be my kinda pain.  Whoa.  Momma.  I could fall for her.  Hard.  And short of that, I really wanna fork her.  Yes, I said fork.
2. Forks.  Forks should be fourks.  Never threeks.  And they should be stainless steel.  And heavy.  I need to feel the weight of my fork in my hand.  It’s got prongs for cryin’ out loud!  And I don’t like little forks, or dessert forks (unless I’m eating dessert), or salad forks (not even when I’m eating salad), and just generally…  This whole fork thing is a huge problem.  So if you have wimpy lightweight short little threeks, don’t invite me to dinner.  Just sayin’.
3. Dinner.  Dinner is a meal.  Supper is a pre-crucifixion ritual.  I don’t always eat dinner.  But I never never never eat supper.  Ever.  Supper is for threek-loving Brandi Carlile haters.  And Canadians.
4. Canadians.  That whole elongated O thing.  I like that.  Cuz um…  I like elongated “O’s”.  Heh.
5. Elongated O’s.  That’s what I said.  You figure it out.  😛

‘Kayso, an elongated O sounds pretty damn good right about now.

Hope you have one (or 17!) yourself at some point this evening.

Happy New Year!